Champion Game
by Misheard Whisper
Summary: <html><head></head>Ren Goodwin takes on the mantle of Champion, only to find that not only is it much more pressure than he expected, but it also comes with a bizarre, supernatural twist that he never could have imagined in his wildest dreams. And speaking of dreams . . .</html>
1. To Triumph Over Someone

A/N: Pokemon does not belong to me, and neither do any and all canon characters used. Ren Goodwin and other original characters _do_ belong to me. This story was born from watching too much _Yumekui Merry_, reading too much _Bleach_, and wondering what would happen if the role of Champion had more to it than the games and anime ever hinted.

Rated T for eventual violence, moderate adult themes and moderate language.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Five years.

That was how long it had taken him. Just fifty-nine months, nineteen days, and he was the Champion. It was almost a joke.

Ren rolled over in his bed, burying his head deeper in his pillow. It was almost physically impossible to stay awake, and yet something . . . something was nagging at him. He knew he should be happy. He had finally made real the goal of his childhood, the goal of so many thousands of aspiring Trainers the world over. He had done what so few had done before, and all before his fifteenth birthday. Just two days ago, he had stood in the Hall of Fame, head high, as the previous Champion bowed out and inscribed his name upon the hallowed list. There had been a whirl of media attention, cameras and press conferences, interviews and talk shows. In such a short time, he had become Hoenn's favourite teenager.

So why . . . why did he feel so empty?

Frustrated, Ren rolled over onto his back again, glaring up at the ceiling. The room was dark and bare; the only decoration was a dusty chest of drawers under the window. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, dim and cold, barely visible in the weak trickle of moonlight that spilled between the dust-heavy curtains. Of course there was no sign of life in the room – it was his first time sleeping in it in nearly five years. When he had left on his tenth birthday, he had packed up all his toys, his books and photos, and stored them away in the attic. He hadn't returned once in all that time; never long enough to stay the night, at least.

It was all returning to him now. It wasn't that he'd forgotten his childhood; all he'd done was pack it up in those boxes with his toys. When he'd set out to become a Pokemon Trainer, Ren had put the first ten years of his life behind him, dismissing them as a pointless necessity, a stepping stone to where he wanted to be.

Ren shook his head wryly. He'd come full circle. In five years, he'd travelled all over the Hoenn region and overseas, beaten thirteen Gym Leaders, won the Ever Grande Conference, defeated the Elite Four, and finally taken down the Champion. And now . . . now he was back where he'd started. The irony was almost amusing.

_So if I've returned to where I started . . . have I really succeeded in going anywhere at all?_

Finally, Ren started to feel the dark haze of sleep overcome him, and he welcomed it gratefully.

**Chapter One**

_Para A Triunfar Sobre Alguien  
>[To Triumph Over Someone]<br>_

Ten hours later, Ren opened his eyes blearily to find his room full of light. Squinting, he propped himself up on one elbow and glanced over at the window. The curtains were wide open, revealing a sharp, crisp azure sky free of clouds. The sun was streaming in through the casement, painting his whole room golden and illuminating the dust motes in the air.

Groaning, Ren flopped back down onto his bed. He had forgotten how passive-aggressive his mother was when it came to getting him up in the mornings. She had probably come in and opened his curtains just as soon as she had woken up herself.

Eyes adjusting to the light, Ren sat up and grabbed his watch off the bedhead. It wasn't even half past eight. With a sigh, he swung his feet out from under the blanket and onto the carpet. Yawning, he stood up to get dressed.

When he got downstairs ten minutes later, his mother was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal. She looked up, beaming, when Ren entered the room.

"There's my little Champion!" she exclaimed. Ren rolled his eyes and smiled indulgently.

"I'm nearly fifteen now, mom," he complained half-heartedly, knowing full well it would make no difference.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweetie!" his mother pouted. "It's like you don't love your mommy anymore!" Shaking his head, Ren grabbed a bowl off the shelf and poured himself some cereal.

"Don't be silly, mom," he said quietly, looking down at the table. "Course I do."

"I know, sweetie," she said, ruffling his hair. "I just wanted to hear you say it. It's been a long time since we sat down together like this, huh?"

"I came back for Christmas last year," Ren reminded her, splashing milk onto his cornflakes before getting up to fetch a spoon from the drawer. "It's not like I haven't seen you."

"I mean just you and me, like it used to be." She fell silent for a moment before speaking up again. "Don't suppose you'll be home for long this time, either, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty much," said Ren lightly, refusing to meet her eyes. "I've got, you know . . . Champion stuff to do now. Taking challengers, and . . . um." Ren suddenly realised that he had no idea what was expected of him. Challengers would come infrequently. The Ever Grande Conference was only held once a year, and there had to be some kind of special reason for any Trainer to make a challenge outside of that – for example, if one of the Elites vouched for them personally. That meant he'd be taking perhaps one challenger a year. Other than that . . . what was he to do?

"That reminds me!" his mother said brightly. "Steven rang earlier. He wants you to meet him in Rustboro City today. Can you call him back and tell him you'll be there?"

"Steven?" Ren said. "What does he want? I just got back – can't it wait?"

"Well, I assume he wants to talk Champion business, sweetie. You'll have to go and find out."

"Sure. I'll call him now, then," Ren decided, standing up and snatching the phone off its hook. "Be right back," he said over his shoulder as he headed back upstairs, dialing the number he had been given earlier.

Ren sat down on his bed as he pressed the 'call button', idly staring at the ceiling as he waited for Steven to pick up. He didn't have to wait long.

"This is Steven Stone," said a familiar voice.

"Steven! It's Ren."

"Oh, hello, Ren," Steven said. "I trust you've been keeping well?"

_What sort of eighteenth-century greeting is that? _Ren wondered absently. Aloud, he simply said, "I'm all right. A bit tired, but I guess that's to be expected. But what's this about me having to go to Rustboro City?"

"I have to . . . talk to you about something very important," said Steven. Ren frowned.

"Something important? Is it so important you can't tell me over the phone? I mean, I just got home last night and all."

"Yes!" Steven said emphatically. "This is a matter of crucial importance, and I need to speak to you about it in should be a train leaving Slateport at nine thirty. Can you be on it?"

Ren glanced at his watch – it was quarter to nine. "Can't it wait?" he asked.

"Not possible," Steven insisted. "Can you be on the train?" he repeated.

Ren rolled his eyes. "Sure," he said, shaking his head as he resigned himself to Steven's stubbornness. "Meet me at the station?"

"I'll have someone there to pick you up," Steven said. "I'm sorry, Ren. This must all seem very confusing and inconvenient, but trust me, there's good reason for it. I won't keep you in the dark any longer than I have to."

"Alright," said Ren wearily, biting his lip. "I'll be there."

"Thank you, Ren. Goodbye, and be safe." With a click, the line went dead. Ren sighed and flopped back onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been looking forward to spending some time at home, but it seemed that that was not to be.

With another sigh, Ren picked up his backpack off the floor and started tossing things into it. Over the last five years, he had gotten used to travelling light, so he knew exactly what he needed. There wasn't much: just his Pokemon, a few toiletries and a change of clothes.

Out of habit, he straightened the covers on his bed before he left. It might have been a long time since he'd last done it, but it still didn't feel right to leave the house without doing it. He clunked down the stairs again, his durable, hard-soled shoes making an uncomfortably loud noise as he did so.

"Oh . . . you're going now, sweetie?" his mother said, her brow slightly creased – with concern or disapproval, Ren couldn't tell which.

"Yeah, mom," he said. "Steven wants to talk to me in person, so I've gotta catch the nine-thirty train."

"Do you have to go now? Can't it wait?"

"That's what I asked," Ren said wryly, "but he was quite insistent."

"Oh, I don't like it," she grumbled. "You come home for one night and then you're off again! I hardly see you these days."

"I know, mom," Ren said, "but it shouldn't be for so long this time. I'll talk to Steven about . . . whatever it is he wants to talk about, and then I'll be back. Maybe even tonight, but I can't make any promises."

His mother smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Don't worry, sweetie," she said. "I know it has to be important, so you go and do what you have to do, OK? I've managed without you for five years, after all. I'll be fine for another couple of days."

"Gotcha," Ren said, nodding as he opened the front door. "See you, mom. Love you!"

"Love you too, honey," she said quietly as the door closed between them.

Ren took a deep breath of cool morning air before slapping himself in the face. He worried about his mother. She pretended not to be bothered, but he knew how hard it had to be for her. She had been living alone for five years, after all. Ren couldn't imagine how hard it would be to be isolated, which was why he had tried to visit as often as he was able, but being the Pokemon Champion was a demanding dream. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't spend his whole life in Slateport.

He'd thought, perhaps, that things would change after he finally became the Champion. Of course, he'd known that he'd still be running all over Hoenn like one possessed, but he hadn't realised it would start this soon.

_I promise, mom_, he said to himself as he looked back at the gate._ After this, I'll come home and stay for at least a month. It'll be just you and me._

Sweeping his tousled brown hair out of his face, Ren set his eyes on Slateport City – visible just a couple of miles along the coast, glittering like a jewel in the morning sunlight – and stepped out confidently towards it.

Ren's house stood atop a hill overlooking the sea, and the winding, jackknifing road that passed in front of it offered a spectacular view of the sea to the south-east. The sun bore down strongly despite the early hour, and even the cutting breeze that sliced across the cliff-face did little to alleviate the warmth. Ren could only imagine what the heat would be like later in the day.

As Ren made his way along the road, he marvelled, as always, at the ingenuity of whoever had built the road in the first place. On one side, the cliff rose up, almost vertically, just inches from where he walked. Covered in tough grass and hardy flowers, the cliff was one of the most steadfast constants in Ren's world. On the other side of the narrow road, the cliff suddenly dropped away again. Even though he had seen it a thousand times before, Ren took a peek over the rickety barrier that separated the road from the open air. Like every other time, it took his breath away. The land dropped away at a ridiculous angle; he fancied that if he fell off, he might bounce once before he hit the water at the bottom – twice if he was lucky.

With a grin, Ren set his eyes straight ahead again and set off with renewed vigour, the comforting smell of brine in his nostrils.

The walk was mostly downhill, which made the going easy, although there were lots of switchbacks to traverse. Ren made it into Slateport City proper with twenty minutes to spare, and quickly headed for the train station. He kept his head down and his eyes averted from everyone he passed. It wasn't that he didn't _want _to be recognised, but at this stage, it could possibly delay him and make him miss his train. He wasn't willing to risk Steven's ire simply because he couldn't deal with a couple of fans.

A couple of times, he thought he saw people pointing at him and whispering to each other, and in each case, he quickly crossed the street or took a different turn. The central train station was near the city outskirts, so he didn't have far to go. He purchased a ticket to Rustboro from a bored-looking attendant, and was just about to climb onto the train when he heard an excited shriek from behind him.

"_Ren!_" With a wince, he glanced around just in time to get tackled head-on by a small, pink blur.

"Oof!" he exclaimed, stumbling backwards and just about falling into the train. "Who- what the-?"

"Long time no see, Ren!" said the pink blur excitedly, detaching itself from his midriff and beaming up at him.

"Natasha?" Ren queried. "Is that you?"

"Of course it's me, idiot!" his twelve-year-old cousin squeaked, bouncing up and down madly. "Don't tell me you forgot about me after just five years!"

"No, 'Tash, I didn't," Ren said hurriedly, glancing at his watch. The train was about to leave. "But look, I've gotta go. I'll come visit when I get back, I promise."

"No! I want to come with you! Where are you going?" she demanded, stamping her foot. Ren started to answer, but he was drowned out by a piercing shriek from the loudspeaker.

"_Nine-thirty to Rustboro is now departing. All passengers, please board the train immediately. Nine-thirty to Rustboro."_

"Rustboro City," he tried again. "It's a long way away, but I promise I'll see you when I get back. It's too far for you to come," he said, climbing onto the train.

"No!" Natasha protested, leaping nimbly past him onto the train. "I'm coming and that's that."

"'Tash!" Ren hissed, making a grab for her, but it was too late. The door shut with a _clang_, and the train began to move. "Oh, damn it!" he sighed, slumping down onto the nearest seat. The carriage was empty but for the two of them.

Natasha giggled happily. "This'll be fun!" she said happily, jumping onto the seat beside Ren and snuggling into his side.

"Not really," Ren said, taking a deep breath. "You're not supposed to be on this train, are you?"

"Nope! Daddy wanted to take us on holiday to Lilycove, but Rustboro's gonna be much more fun!"

Ren ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "So . . . you were going on holiday, but you just decided to jump on my train? Oh, what am I gonna do with you . . ." Shaking his head, he took out his PokeNav and dialled a number. It picked up on the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, hi there. Uncle Roger, it's me, Ren."

"Oh, hello, Ren! What are you calling for? Congratulations on becoming the Champion, by the way. Mary and I were going to drop by and congratulate you in person, because I heard you were in town, but we were too busy packing for our holiday!"

"Thanks, Uncle Roger," Ren said uncomfortably. "But, uh . . . about that holiday. I imagine you're looking for Natasha about now, right?"

"Well, yes, actually, we are," Roger said, sounding puzzled. "How the blazes did you work that out? We're at the train station, but she's run off somewhere, the little tyke."

"Yeah, well, um . . . I've got her," Ren said.

"Oh, splendid!" Roger said cheerfully. "Could you bring her back to platform twelve? The train leaves in ten minutes."

"Actually, that's why I'm calling," Ren said, scratching his head and glaring at his cousin, who raised her eyebrows innocently. "Your little bundle of fun just jumped on my train, and now there's nothing I can do about it. It's the express, so it doesn't stop until Rustboro."

"Rustb- oh, for the love of-" Roger stuttered. "Well, um, I, uh. Huh, what's that? No, Mary, she's fine. It's Ren . . . Yes, I did congratulate him . . . No, she's on the train to Rustboro . . . How should I know? Well, uh . . ." There was a crackle at the other end of the line, and Ren frowned.

"Hello, Ren," said a different voice.

"Aunt Mary!" Ren said, surprised. "Hello."

"Natasha's with you, is she?"

"Yeah," Ren said, shooting another glare at his cousin, who was now rolling on the seat in paroxysms of silent laughter. "I'm sorry, Aunt Mary, but she jumped on board before I could stop her." A crackle of feedback that may have been a sigh filtered down the line.

"Well, there's nothing to be done about that, is there? Roger and I will catch the next train to Rustboro and take her off your hands at the station."

"Well . . ." Ren said. "I kind of have to be in Rustboro on business, you see. I don't know if that's practical. But I can't just leave her at the station, and I wouldn't dare put her on a train by herself . . ."

"That _is_ a problem, then," Mary said.

"Uncle Roger said you were going to Lilycove for a holiday," Ren said thoughtfully. "How long was that going to be?"

"Just for the night. Why?" Mary asked worriedly.

"How about this?" Ren said, biting his lip. "I'll take Natasha with me, and you and Uncle Roger go to Lilycove. She'll be fine with me, I promise."

"Well . . ." Mary said, sounding unconvinced.

"I can't imagine you've had much peace for the last twelve years with this mad creature around," Ren said frankly. "You could use a break."

"I guess . . . that does sound nice," his aunt said. "All right, Ren. You're our favourite nephew, and we trust you, so we'll leave our little girl to you. I know you're grown-up enough to handle it."

"OK, Aunt Mary," Ren said. "Catch you later. Enjoy your holiday." With that, he hung up and leant back in the seat.

"So?" Natasha asked.

"Against my better judgement, it's you and me on holiday in Rustboro," Ren said.

"Yay!" Natasha squealed, jumping up and racing up and down the carriage. "I'm going on holiday with cousin Ren!"

Ren exhaled heavily, smiling. His cousin was the only relative he knew that was even close to him in age, and they had grown up quite close. She was hyperactive and wore too much pink, but she was still special to him.

"Sit down, you," he said. "I'm going to go and see about getting you a ticket." Obediently, Natasha flumped herself down onto a seat and sat as still as a statue, arms crossed. Shaking his head, Ren headed for the door to the next carriage.

It didn't take him long to find a guard. Apologetically, he started to explain his situation, but before he had even mentioned how Natasha had leapt onto the train, the guard leant down and tipped his chin up, examining Ren closely. A grin had spread across the big man's face as he recognised him, and he had continued – much to Ren's chagrin – to announce to the whole carriage, which was much more densely populated than the one Ren had boarded, that it was 'that new Champion kid everyone's been talking about'. When the guard had asked if anybody had a problem with the Champion and his cousin moving up to first class, the other passengers had responded enthusiastically, although one or two had 'demanded' an autograph as 'payment' for class-skipping. Chuckling, Ren had obliged before going back to fetch Natasha. The guard showed them to the carriage at the front of the train and sat them down in much more comfortable seats.

"That was nice of him," Natasha commented as she excitedly pressed her nose to the juddering window. "Are you really that famous now, cousin Ren?"

"I guess I am," Ren said bashfully, looking out the window too as Hoenn flashed past. Far to the north, he could see the spire of Mount Chimney thrusting up above the rest of the countryside.

_I am_, he thought. _Life's gonna be a lot different now that I'm the Champion, but I expected that. The question now, though, is . . . where do I go from here? Is there someone else I can beat? Can I get stronger? Or is there no point now?_


	2. I Will Make a Wish for the Future

A/N: Not much to say about this one. Still getting the hang of the chapter-posting thing on this darn confusing website :x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_Pedir__é un Deseo por el Futuro_

The train pulled into Rustboro City with a rattle and a deafening screech. Ren had spent the whole trip split between controlling Natasha and burying his face in a magazine so he wouldn't be recognised. The friendly guard, who had introduced himself as Simone, saw them off the train with a cheerful wave, and Ren grabbed hold of Natasha's hand to avoid her wandering off as he navigated his way out of the station.

_Steven said he'd send someone to pick me up_, Ren recalled as he scanned the throngs of people packing the bustling station. _But who . . . ?_ There was nobody he recognised, so he shrugged and continued to wend his way through the crowd. _Maybe there'll be somebody outside?_ he reasoned.

Hopefully, he scanned the line of bored-looking drivers standing by the door, checking to see if any of their placards had his name on it. Nothing. Just as he was about to make his way out of the station's grand entrance, he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned, somewhat taken aback, to see a somewhat irate-looking teenage girl in a grey school uniform, her brown hair drawn back, in two bunches, with a large pink ribbon into a pair of ponytails.

"D-didn't you hear me?" she said crossly. "I was calling you the whole time!"

"Ah," said Ren. "Roxanne. It's been a while."

"Three years since you won the Stone Badge," she said, smiling. "You've hardly come by the Gym since."

"Ah . . . sorry about that," Ren said, scratching his head. "What, did you miss me?"

"I-I just thought I should battle you again sometime," Roxanne said. "But come on, we're blocking the path." She was right, Ren realised as he hurriedly followed the Gym Leader out of the station and down a wide flight of stairs towards a large, fancy-looking black car parked on the road below.

"This us?" Ren asked, gesturing to the car. Roxanne nodded. "After you, then," he said, opening the door and gallantly waving her inside. Roxanne went a little pink, but climbed in anyway. Ren chuckled and helped Natasha up into the car before following them.

Inside, the car was remarkably spacious. Roxanne was already seated with her back to the driver, leaving Ren and Natasha to sit opposite her. Once Ren had closed the door behind him, Roxanne pressed a small red button on the armrest and spoke into a small microphone embedded into the side of the car: "To the Devon Corporation, if you please." Without further discussion, the engine of the car purred into life, and Ren felt the slightest lurch as it pulled out into traffic.

"Nice ride," he commented. "Being a Gym Leader paying well, then?"

"No, ah . . . this car belongs to Mr. Stone. He asked me to come and fetch you from the station, but I think a vehicle of this, uh . . . _scale _is somewhat unnecessary."

"I see. That makes sense, I guess," Ren said, quietly trying to dissuade Natasha from opening the minibar she had just discovered under her seat. The Gym Leader smiled at the younger girl.

"Hello, there," she said in a friendly manner. "My name is Roxanne. What's yours?"

Natasha tilted her head slightly, sizing Roxanne up. "I'm 'Tash," she said eventually. "Are you cousin Ren's girlfriend?"

"Wha-" Ren started, taken aback, but he was overriden immediately.

"Absolutely not! That's preposterous!" Roxanne said insistently.

"Then why are you all pink?" Natasha challenged her. She had a point, Ren admitted. At Natasha's comment, Roxanne's face had gone a deep shade of rose that put her hair-ribbon to shame.

"Speaking of pink," Ren said quickly, trying to defuse the suddenly awkward situation, "why are you still wearing those pink stockings? I mean, it's none of my business, but they're really quite . . . _out there_, aren't they?"

"What? These? Um, I . . . maybe," Roxanne said distractedly, refusing to meet Ren's eyes. "But never mind that. I wanted to congratulate you personally for defeating Steven."

"Ah, thanks," said Ren.

"I . . . knew, you know," Roxanne said hesitantly. "Back when you came to the Rustboro Gym three years ago, I could tell that you were going to go a long way."

"Really?" Ren asked, surprised. "But I only had three Gym badges by then."

"Still," Roxanne said, "I could see it. I think it was your eyes."

"My . . . eyes?" Ren said, confused. "What about my eyes?"

"Well, I think . . . As soon I met you, I saw something in your eyes. I didn't know quite what it was at the time, and I still can't be sure, but whatever it was . . . it told me you were going to keep going. All the way to the top. And look at you now! I'm going to have to start calling you 'boss' soon."

Ren laughed uncomfortably. "Boy, that'd feel weird," he said. "But that reminds me . . . exactly how much control . . . no, that's not what I want to ask. What I mean is – how much responsibility does the Champion have?"

"What do you mean by that?" Roxanne asked, frowning.

"Well, all my life, the Champion's just been . . . there. Sitting up there at the top of the heap, unassailable and distant, and . . . well, there was a lot of secrecy. I know very little about what the Champion is actually expected to do, other than, you know, take challengers."

"That's . . ." Roxanne stared out of the tinted window as if looking for answers in the stone facades of the city. "That's something . . . that Steven will tell you about today, I think. How much did he tell you when he called?"

"Nothing," Ren grumbled, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. Something nagged at him, but he couldn't be sure what it was. Something wasn't right. "He told me nothing."

"That's Steven for you," Roxanne said, "although I probably shouldn't be so flippant. However mysterious he might be, he's still Steven Stone, even before he's the Champion."

"I met his father when I was here last," Ren noted. "He seemed like an . . . interesting man."

"Yes, that sounds about right," said Roxanne. "Mr. Stone is, of course, still the CEO of the Devon Corporation. He's one of the most respected businessmen in the world, and I think he plans to have Steven take over from him in a few years."

"He's going to retire?" Ren asked, arching an eyebrow. "But he's only, what, sixty?"

"Sixty-seven," Roxanne corrected him. "Still, he's in perfect health, from what I've seen, and personally . . . personally, I don't think Steven's going to want to take over any time soon."

"What makes you say that?" asked Ren, frowning. "It's not like he has nothing to do, or anything, but I still imagine he'll have a lot of time on his hands now that he's stepping down as Champion."

"When I . . . last talked to Steven," Roxanne said slowly, looking Ren directly in the eye for the first time, "he seemed . . . restless. I don't know if I should be telling you this, but . . . I don't think he's the sort to just settle down peacefully. Did he ever tell you about his hobby?"

"What, collecting rocks? Yeah, I ran into him a few times in Granite Cave when I was training there," Ren recalled.

"Collecting rocks? Well, not exactly, though you've essentially got the right idea. Steven has a great interest in the rare minerals and gemstones that can be found all over the Hoenn region. Hoenn has a remarkable geological makeup, and the bedrock varies wildly from one place to another. Because of this, and the huge number of natural and artificial caves that can be found here, I don't think Steven will ever be satisfied with the results of his research. He is a remarkable man, but he appears to have inherited his father's fortitude. I'm not sure if that's a good thing, frankly."

Ren remained silent for a moment, considering. "I don't know. Is Mr. Stone really looking to retire so soon?"

"Probably in the next few years. It would seem he's quite happy to have Steven available again. At least, that is the impression I get. It makes sense, don't you think?"

"True," Ren said. "But I can't imagine Steven actually going directly against his father if it came down to it. You know, if he actually directly said 'I want you to take over Devon Corp.' He couldn't turn that down."

"I suppose you're right," Roxanne admitted, "but it's still worth keeping an eye on. I don't think that's what Steven wants to discuss with you, anyway."

"Do _you_ know what he wants?" Ren asked. "Because it seems I'm somewhat in the dark here."

"No," Roxanne said, then paused – for a little longer than necessary, Ren thought. "No, I have no idea at all. All I know is that it's something to do with your new role as Champion, but I imagine you will have worked that out already."

"I'd figured as much," Ren said, nodding.

"Are you gonna go to a meeting, Ren?" Natasha piped up, reminding Ren of her presence. She'd been so unusually quiet, he had almost forgotten she was there.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said.

"Can I come with you?" she asked. "Daddy never lets me go to his meetings!"

"Well, ah . . . I guess we'll have to see," Ren said. "It depends on what Steven thinks, I guess. If it's too secret, you're going to have to wait outside, I suppose."

"Here we are!" said Roxanne suddenly, as the car came to a gentle halt and fell silent. After a few seconds, the door opened from the outside, and she slipped out gracefully. Ren followed her, nodding his thanks to the driver as he made sure Natasha was with him.

"Wow . . ." Ren breathed. "I see this every time I come to Rustboro, but it's still pretty impressive." The headquarters of Devon Corporation was a large, brown-stone building that managed to look both ancient and solid at the same time. The facade was intricately carved and set with large, fearsome gargoyles that jutted out into the street. Standing on the cobbled footpath and looking up, the building loomed impossibly high, even though it was relatively small compared to those around it.

"Isn't it just?" Roxanne agreed. "Come on. Steven wanted to see you as soon as possible." Shrugging, Ren followed her into the building, taking time to admire the classical stone arch as he passed through it.

Roxanne crossed the empty foyer quickly, her buckled shoes clacking briskly on the tile floor. Ren looked around – he had only been _inside _Devon Corp once or twice. Quite suddenly, everything was modern. They passed through a revolving door into the building proper, and Ren had to rescue Natasha, who wanted to keep going round and round.

"Honestly," he muttered. "You're twelve years old now, but you still act like a little kid! Would it kill you to grow up just a little bit?"

"But it's so much fun!" Natasha protested, giggling. "I'm not important or famous like cousin Ren, so I can do what I want to and it doesn't matter!"

Ren frowned, but before he could think too hard on it, he was distracted by Roxanne practically dragging him onward. "Will you get a move on?" she said.

"Whoa, whoa! Why the big hurry all of a sudden?" Ren asked, walking faster to catch up.

"Steven told you it was urgent, did he not?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then come on," Roxanne said, chivvying him past the receptionist, who nodded respectfully to the pair of them. Ren followed along as quickly as he could, Natasha trotting happily in his wake. _Did I do something to piss her off?_ he wondered. Nothing came to mind, so he left it.

Roxanne led them into a lift and pressed the button for the top floor. With barely a lurch, the carriage began to ascend, its three occupants standing in awkward silence for the duration. With a soft _ding_, the doors opened, and Ren stepped out. Roxanne didn't move.

"Are you . . . coming?" he asked, uncertain. Roxanne shook her head. She opened her mouth slightly as if to speak, but then closed it again as if thinking better of it.

"Good luck," was all she said, after a lengthy pause. Ren nodded and beckoned to Natasha, who followed him out of the lift.

"See you around," he said, still slightly bemused. Roxanne nodded silently as the lift doors closed and she disappeared from sight. "Well, that was strange," Ren said aloud.

"She got all worried when we came into the building," observed Natasha. "Why's that, Ren?"

"She did?" Ren arched his eyebrows. He had noticed something strange about Roxanne, but hadn't been able to put his finger on it. Was it worry he had glimpsed in her face? He didn't really think so, but . . . "Girls are so hard to figure out," he muttered under his breath.

"They are indeed," said Steven from behind him. Ren jumped and spun round to face the former Champion.

"Don't – don't _do_ that!" he squeaked. A flicker of amusement passed across Steven's smooth face.

"Come with me, Champion," he said, turning and walking away. They were in a hallway, Ren noticed as he followed Steven's shock of silver hair. _An ostentatious one, at that_. The floor was covered with plush red carpet that seemed to swallow Ren's feet as he walked, and the walls were painted in a similar shade, with gold trim glinting on all sides. Ornate golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling at intervals, glittering with droplets of diamond.

"Nice place," Ren said quietly.

"Quite. Actually, this floor is the Stone family's personal residence in Rustboro. My father lives here most of the time, as he never likes to be too far from his work. It is a little extravagant for my tastes, but then, I have no real say in the matter as I spend so little time here."

"So, will you tell me why I'm here yet?" Ren queried, hurrying to catch up to Steven. Steven glanced across at him briefly.

"I will," he said. "But first, may I suggest that your . . ." He tailed off, seemingly uncertain.

"Cousin," Ren supplied, seeing where Steven was looking.

"May I suggest, then, that we find some way for your _cousin_ to entertain herself for an hour or two. I apologise for the seeming lack of trust, but what we have to discuss is for your ears only."

"How exactly do you expect a twelve-year-old to entertain herself in a place like this?" Ren asked, gesturing around at the ornate furnishings.

"I have some idea," Steven said, before leaning over slightly to address Natasha directly. "Do you like books?" he asked.

Natasha nodded solemnly, which surprised Ren slightly. His cousin had never shown much interest in literature of any kind, from what he could remember. "Yes," she said. "I like reading."

"Well," said Steven, drawing to a halt before a dark wooden door, "would you like to see my library?" Without waiting for an answer, he pushed the door open and gestured her inside.

Ren peeked over Steven's shoulder into the room beyond, and his eyes grew wide. A huge, warmly-lit room stretched out from the door, lined with enormous, floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with books of all shapes and sizes. "Wow," he breathed. "How many books do you have?"

"Thousands," Steven said – a touch smugly, Ren thought. "Katrina!" he said sharply, raising his voice a little.

There was a scuffling sound, and a girl poked her head out from behind a bookshelf several metres away. She had mousy brown hair and a small pair of square glasses resting on her nose. She looked to be a few years older than Ren. "Yes?" she said. "Oh, hello, Steven! Did you need me for something?"

"This is our Champion's cousin," Steven explained, indicating Natasha, who had wandered towards the nearest bookshelf and was scanning it eagerly. "Could you look after her for a little while for us? Ren and I have some business to discuss."

Katrina smiled. "Sure thing. I'll keep an eye on her – both, if I can spare them."

"Thank you," Steven said, smiling back. "We'll be back in an hour or two, I imagine." With a final nod, he closed the door again. "My sister," he said, upon seeing Ren's confused expression. "She's studying for her Masters in Anthropology, so she spends most of her time in the library."

"I see." Ren followed Steven as he set off again, heading down a different corridor._ How big is this floor?_ Ren wondered. It had taken them a good couple of minutes to get from the lift to the library.

"Your cousin seems like a sensible child," Steven remarked.

"Strangely, no," Ren said. "She's usually quite hyper, and I just don't know what's up with her today. Ever since we arrived in Rustboro, she's been . . . pretty strange. Normally she'd have been bouncing off the walls all the way up here, but . . . no. I don't know." He shook his head. Natasha _had_ been acting strange. Perhaps she really had mellowed out over the five years he hadn't seen her? He was willing to put her initial display of hyperactivity down to excitement at seeing him again, but still . . . there was something strange.

"She'll be fine with Katrina," Steven said. "She won't brook any nonsense, not while she's studying." After another couple of turns, he stopped abruptly and opened another door, gesturing for Ren to precede him into the room.

The room was a lot more understated than the rest of the floor, Ren noticed immediately. The red and gold colour scheme remained, but the floor was hardwood and there were no chandeliers. Light came from quietly humming fixtures on the ceiling, and the only furnishings in the room were two low chairs, facing each other across a plain metal table.

"This room is where my father holds his most secret meetings," Steven said. "The ones where it is absolutely imperative that their contents remain confidential, and the ones with clients who are too pragmatic to be insulted by the lack of an extravagant conference room. I don't know the sorts of people he meets with in here, but it's none of my business . . . yet."

"It might be, if you have to take over the company from your father."

"Who told you that?" Steven asked, his eyes narrowing.

Ren inhaled sharply. He had the sense he had said something he shouldn't have. "I . . . assumed it?" he said weakly. "I mean, you're the oldest, aren't you?"

Steven continued to examine him closely as he took his seat and indicated Ren should do the same. "That sounds unlikely. Did Roxanne say anything?"

"She . . . might have mentioned it," Ren admitted as he sat down on the metal chair, which creaked slightly under his weight. "Hypothetically, that is."

"Tch," Steven tutted. "That girl . . . oh, well. It is of no great importance." He paused, staring at Ren for a few moments, looking him up and down. Ren shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly very aware that his unruly brown hair was sticking up all over the place, a pet hate of his mother's. He was only wearing ratty old jeans and a red t-shirt, too – he hadn't had time to get changed before he left for the train station. He felt very scruffy next to the immaculate Steven in his black pants and collared shirt with its purple zigzags. He sank slightly into his chair, as if it would prevent Steven from seeing him.

"What did . . . you want to talk to me about?" Ren asked.

Steven leant back in his chair suddenly, rubbing his eyes and sighing. "This is an awkward business, Ren," he said, his voice suddenly carrying an awful lot of gravity. "A most awkward and tiring business. And, setting aside any matters of Champion and ex-Champion for the moment, I'd like you to listen to me as one man to another. Do you understand?"

Ren frowned. Suddenly, Roxanne wasn't the only one acting weird. "What . . . are you trying to say?"

Steven dipped his head slightly and closed his eyes. "I'm trying to say that . . . what I have to discuss with you today is something I'd never hoped to discuss with someone like you. Please don't take offence, but . . . you're still little more than a boy. I always expected to have to tell my successor about this – you can't be Champion forever, after all – but I didn't expect it to be someone as young as you."

"Will you please tell me what you're on about?" Ren demanded. "You're just confusing me more and more! And just because I'm fourteen doesn't mean you can be condescending!"

Steven nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm insulting your intelligence if I try to hide anything from you. All I need is your solemn promise that you will take me seriously, because without that this conversation will bear no fruit. Agreed?"

Ren nodded firmly. "Agreed. Now talk, if you have something to say."

Steven let out a long, slow breath before opening his eyes and looking directly into Ren's. "Let me begin with a question."


	3. The World of Dreams

A/N: I apologise for the posting speed . . . I'm just posting one every couple of days till I catch up with the other places I have this running. But they're only up to Chapter Four, so after that I'll be updating perhaps once a week.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_El Mundo de los Sueños_

"Why do you think we hold the Ever Grande Conference, Ren?" Steven asked at length.

Ren frowned. He would have thought that the answer to that question was simple. "Uh . . . to find out who's the strongest Trainer in Hoenn?" he ventured.

"Yes," Steven agreed, "but at the same time, it's far more than that."

"What . . . what exactly do you mean by that?"

Steven took a deep breath and interlaced his fingers in front of him on the table, staring at them intently as if expecting them to answer for him. "What if I were to say to you, Ren . . . that there is a hidden factor determining how successful each person is as a Trainer?"

"I'd say you were mad," Ren said. "Sounds like one of those crazy video games where you don't know how anything's calculated – it just does it for you."

"Not so much," Steven said. "There's no math involved. Just . . . power, if you will."

"Power? What kind of power?" Ren felt himself being drawn in, despite his skepticism. Steven was making a face that was far too serious to doubt.

"That's just it. That's why this is so hard to explain. I . . . don't exactly know, Ren. But every Trainer – no, every _person_ in this world has a measure of this power within them. I suppose you could call it a spiritual power, because it has nothing to do with physical strength or mental acuity. Sometimes you get muscle-headed imbeciles with huge reserves of this power; other times, the exact opposite. I'm at a loss as to which factors affect a person's spiritual power." He paused, as if waiting for Ren to react.

"Sounds . . . confusing," Ren offered, unwilling to give away too much of what he was thinking. A multitude of possibilities, explanations and worries were running through his mind at high speed, but he didn't feel like letting Steven be privy to them just yet. "So what does this power have to do with the Ever Grande Conference?"

"People will tell you that factors like age, experience, discipline, and the like determine who becomes a Champion, Ren. This is not true, and I am sure you, of all people, will be able to appreciate that. You came into this position at the age of just fourteen. By all rights, there is no way you should have been able to become Champion now. Yet you did."

"I did," Ren agreed. "But surely those things _do_ matter, right? I mean, you get to be the Champion with a lot of hard work! It doesn't just . . . happen."

Steven inclined his head. "You're right. It doesn't 'just happen'. And there is some truth in what you say – things like how long you have trained with your Pokemon, research into your opponent's strengths and weaknesses, and your strategy in battle _do_ make a difference."

"But that's not what you just said," Ren pointed out.

"Perhaps I am going in circles a little," Steven admitted. "What I mean is that while these factors play a large part in determining the winner of a Pokemon battle, that part is nowhere near as large as some would have you believe. What makes up the difference is something in _here._" He tapped his chest with his left index finger.

Ren looked at him askance. "What . . . you mean, like, friendship or something? I thought that was the kind of stuff that happened in kids' TV shows?"

Steven shook his head. "No, Ren. Nothing so intransient or idealistic. What I speak of is this spiritual power that resides within everyone. Imagine, if you will, a scale. The scale reads one to ten. Each human being is placed somewhere on that scale, and that number, to a certain extent, determines their success as a Pokemon Trainer, should they choose to follow that path. Of course, the scale is completely hypothetical – there is no way of measuring this power. I consider myself to stand at about nine point three, but this is only a rough estimate. And again, like I said before, you can have something else contributing to your success. Somebody with a 'score' of eight or higher might lack the willpower to persevere in their goals. They might not be quite quick enough to make the split-second decisions that are required to make or break a Pokemon battle. Do you follow what I'm saying, Ren?"

"Yeah, I think so," Ren said, nodding his head slowly. "In other words, whether we're going to be a good Pokemon Trainer or not . . . is predetermined?"

"To an extent, yes," Steven admitted. "I've thought long and hard about the philosophical ramifications of this, and I would greatly enjoy discussing that with you, but here is not the place. Back to the point: each person has this power, and their Pokemon will react to it accordingly."

"The Pokemon can sense this power?" Ren asked, surprised. "So, what . . . they see that their Trainer has this power and work harder?

"Not as such. Perhaps it would make more sense if I compared your Pokemon to plants. A plant, in normal soil – say, in your backyard – will grow well, provided it is cared for. You can make it grow higher by watering it regularly, keeping pests away from it, and protecting it from harsh wind and rain. Pokemon are much the same. You look after them, care for them, train them, and they will grow strong. Are you with me so far?"

Ren nodded. "Makes sense, I guess. I never really thought of it like that, but . . . Pokemon _are_ a lot like plants, aren't they? And I don't mean just the Grass-types-"

"Focus!" Steven said sharply. "Now, tell me what happens if you decide to grow your plant in, say, the vicinity of Mount Chimney?"

"It . . . grows better?"

"Because?"

"Because of . . . the minerals in the soil, or something? It's been a while since I read any books on Geography."

"Right. In other words, your plant will grow bigger because its environment is more conducive to growth. Provided you then water it properly and so on like you do its counterpart in your garden, it will turn out much larger and healthier, even though you treated it the same. Do you understand now?"

Suddenly, Ren did, although he was still having trouble attaching any form of credence to Steven's story. "Yeah . . . if a Pokemon's Trainer has a high level of – what did you call it? – spiritual power, it's like growing the plant in volcanic soil, right? And then it gets stronger more easily, yeah?"

"Correct!" Steven exclaimed, beaming. "I didn't really expect you to catch on so quickly, I'll admit. Not that I think you're slow, or anything like that, but I am unused to dealing with those younger than me."

"No hard feelings," said Ren, offering Steven a half-smile. "But I'm still taking everything you say with a pinch of salt, I'm afraid."

"That's to be expected. I would begin to doubt the wisdom of telling you this if you believed it all instantly. However, I do have proof to back up what I'm saying, which I will show you soon enough. All I desired was to ensure you did not panic when faced with that evidence," Steven said darkly.

Ren said nothing. What Steven said sounded crazy, yes, but he couldn't help believing him just a little bit. Steven Stone was not the sort of person to play jokes; Ren had gathered as much from the few encounters he had had with the man.

"Very well. In any case . . . this all leads back to the Ever Grande Conference. This contest is held annually in order to discover the person in each region who has the highest spiritual power. This has been going on for many decades, and there is a very good reason behind it, but that will become apparent soon enough. What is important is that you have defeated me, Ren. Do you understand what that means?"

Ren's eyes widened involuntarily. All throughout Steven's explanation, he had completely forgotten to apply what had been said to himself. He slapped himself mentally for the oversight. Steven had been trying to tell him something the whole time, and he had missed it completely.

"Yes, Ren. It means that you are currently the person in the Hoenn region with the highest spiritual power. You are the most volcanic of the volcanic soil, if that makes any sense. The legacy of the Hoenn League is now yours."

"Was this all some elaborate way of handing over the Championship?" Ren asked, suddenly confused again.

"Essentially, yes, but it was not for any idle purpose that I explained all of this to you. For now, I believe, we are done, actually. Unless you have any further questions?"

"Hundreds," Ren said.

"Many of them will have to wait," Steven said, "but go ahead. I will answer as best I can."

"Why is this important? For now, I'll take your word that I won the Championship because of this 'spiritual power'. Why is it so important that the Champion is someone with high spiritual power?"

"I think you are still mistaking the purpose of the League," Steven said, smiling. "The Pokemon League was founded in ordertofind the strongest person in the region, for a very specific purpose. It was never to find the strongest for the sake of knowing who the strongest was. The annual boxing tournament is held to discover the best boxer in Hoenn. The biennial Dewford Surfing Extravaganza is held to find out who can ride the best wave. The Pokemon League is held so that Hoenn has a Champion. And Hoenn _needs_ a Champion, Ren. They need the strongest Champion they can get, and at the moment, that's you."

"Why?"

"That, Ren, is what must be explained later. Take this." From inside his shirt, Steven fished out a small, silver pendant, which he unclasped from around his neck and handed to Ren.

Ren examined it closely. It hung on a silver chain as fine as thread, a chain that looked like it should break if he touched it. The chain pooled gently in his hand, cautiously supporting the emblem that sat atop it. Attached to the chain by a single, delicate ring, it was about the size of Ren's thumbnail, carved intricately into the likeness of a cloud. Or was it a puff of smoke? The shape seemed to billow and flicker as he looked upon it, although when he blinked, hard, and looked at it again, he was quite sure that it was motionless. "What . . . is this?"

"It is the Dreamlight," Steven said solemnly. "It must remain around your neck at all times now, Champion."

"Looks awfully fragile," Ren said worriedly as he drew out the gossamer-like chain and looped it around his neck, bringing the tiny, delicate clasp around to the front so he could see it while he tied it. Suddenly, he paused. "Why do I have to wear this?"

"It is a symbol that you are the Champion," Steven said, "and to all who may ask, it is nothing more than this! Do you understand?" he pressed.

Ren nodded. "But . . . it's something more?" he ventured.

"Yes, of course. It is what will guide you to a further explanation. I have told you all that I am permitted to tell you for now. For the rest of the story, all you need to do is go to sleep any time after sundown."

"Go . . . to sleep?" Ren asked skeptically as he did the clasp up and settled the Dreamlight beneath his shirt. It felt cold against his skin, but pleasantly so. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Steven shook his head. "Sadly, I may say no more. When you go to sleep tonight, you must wear the Dreamlight. This will lead you to your answers."

Ren closed his eyes for a moment before standing up and pacing around the room, looking at the barren walls and featureless ceiling. "I don't like it," he said eventually. "I don't like it at all. You want to know why I don't like it? Because it sounds like a fantasy. Something I'd read in a book. Normally, that would be cool, but . . . you telling me this suggests one of two things."

"Firstly, I'm pulling your leg," Steven supplied, examining one of the fingers on his left hand. "Secondly, there's something huge going on that you can't comprehend. In either case, you feel threatened. If I'm making fun of you, then the joke is on you, and nobody likes that. You fear ending up as the fool. If, on the other hand, I am telling the truth, you instantly find yourself far out of your depth, facing the unknown, and that is what you fear most. Am I right?"

"Exactly," said Ren. "I don't get how, but you're right."

"It's not too hard," said Steven, abruptly standing and crossing the room to stand directly in front of Ren. Gripping the boy by the shoulders, he looked him straight in the eye and said, "Because that's exactly what went through my head when I was told about this six years ago."

Ren shuddered deeply. Something in Steven's light blue eyes worried him. He couldn't explain what it was, but there was no doubt that it was nothing good. Steven apparently felt the tremor, as he gave Ren a comforting pat on the shoulder before he released him.

"Tell you what. We've still got some time, and there's no sense talking about this any more. Let's go and find something to do in Rustboro for the afternoon."

"But . . . I have more questions!" Ren protested.

"No, you don't. Ask them to . . . well, the person who will explain the rest of this to you."

"But you haven't even told me who that is!"

"It doesn't matter. You will meet them tonight. I told you – all you have to do is go to sleep with the Dreamlight on. For now, difficult though it may seem, I'm going to have to ask you to put everything I have just said out of your mind."

"What? You want me to . . . just forget about it?"

"Essentially, yes."

"What was the point of telling me in the first place, then?"

"I told you," Steven said. "It's so that you don't panic when the truth is revealed."

"Why don't _you_ just tell me?" Ren asked, his left hand involuntarily balling into a fist. "Wouldn't that be the sensible thing?"

"It is . . . forbidden." Steven looked down at the floor.

"Forbidden? Who forbade it?" Ren ground his teeth slightly. _This is getting ridiculous._

"I . . . can't tell you that, either," Steven said. "Can you please just do as I ask? This is difficult for me also."

"Fine," Ren said in disgust, folding his arms. "If you're going to be too bloody-minded to just tell me what's going on, then whatever."

"Excellent," said Steven, pointedly ignoring Ren's petulant frown. "And although I hardly feel you need to be reminded of this, everything that was said in this room remains here. You must not speak of it to anybody else unless I say so. Understood?"

Ren nodded. Who would he tell, anyway? It sounded like a load of rubbish, anyway. Spiritual power? Who did Steven think he was kidding? But still, it didn't make sense if Steven _was _joking. After all, why would he? There was no good reason for him to, and that was the fact that Ren could not deny. He only wished Steven would answer his questions a bit more directly.

"In that case, let us return to the library and collect your cousin," Steven said, unlocking the door. "I imagine she will be pleased enough to be liberated from my sister's dreary company."

"She didn't seem that dreary to me," Ren said as he followed Steven out of the meeting room.

"Oh, she is, I'm afraid," Steven said wearily. "Of course, I wouldn't ever say it to her face, but spending time with her is . . . taxing."

"How so?"

"She likes her books, Katrina. She doesn't do people well. It's hard to explain, but . . . having her in the room immediately puts something of a damper on one's mood. It's like she emanates waves of 'I don't want to be here, I don't want to talk to you' that rub off on everyone else."

"That's not very nice," Ren frowned. _And this is the girl studying anthropology?_ he wondered. "She can't be all that bad, surely?"

"Oh, don't get me wrong," Steven said. "I'm very fond of her. But I wouldn't really want to spend too much time with her."

Ren didn't say anything. What could he have said to that?

"Katrina!" Steven said brightly, pushing open the library door. "We're done!"

"Oh, hello, Steven," Katrina's voice said from somewhere among the shelves. "We're over here, by the biographies."

Steven raised his eyebrows at Ren, then tilted his head to indicate that they should both go. The pair made their way carefully through the hazardous-looking maze of loaded bookshelves until they finally spotted Natasha and Katrina, sitting cross-legged on the floor amongst a multitude of books.

"You didn't take as long as you said you were going to," Katrina said, raising her eyebrows. "I don't think it's even been half an hour yet."

"No, you're right," Steven said, "but nonetheless, we have finished our . . . business."

"Well, that's all right. I'll see you around some other time, Natasha," Katrina smiled.

Natasha looked up at Ren curiously. "Why are you back so fast? I was having fun!"

Ren smiled. "We finished talking about what we needed to, so we're done. Come on, let's not bother Katrina any more than we have to."

"Oh, it's no trouble, really," Katrina said, waving a hand airily. "She's a remarkably intelligent child."

"Can't I stay a bit longer?" Natasha begged.

"Actually, if Katrina doesn't mind, that works out perfectly," said Steven. "Ren and I have somewhere else to be, and if you want to stay here for another couple of hours, I don't see an issue with that."

"Somewhere else to be?" Ren said blankly. "Like where?"

"Did I not mention it? You and I are appearing on tonight's _Hoenn Buzz_ to be interviewed."

"No!" Ren exclaimed. "You did _not _mention that! And I want nothing to do with it!" he fumed. It was bad enough that people had to recognise him wherever he went, but any measure of anonymity he might have retained would surely be destroyed if he appeared on primetime television.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," Steven said. "I made the arrangements this morning and they've been hyping it all day via advertisements. Two Champions on TV together is not something that happens often, and you're not getting out of it."

"You can't just go ahead and make decisions like that on your own! I don't want to be on TV!"

Steven gritted his teeth. "Newsflash, Ren: you're going to have to get used to it. The Champion is a media personality as much as he is anything else." As if suddenly noticing that Natasha and Katrina were still listening, wide-eyed, from their position on the floor, he inclined his head to them politely. "My apologies. Ren and I will be leaving now. We will return later this evening to collect his cousin." With that, he wheeled and strode from the library, leaving Ren to follow him reluctantly.

Once the door to the library had closed, Ren stepped in front of Steven and glared at him. "What the hell are you playing at?" he hissed. "I can't do this! I don't want to do this!"

Steven's mouth remained set in a firm line. "You have no choice in the matter. It is your responsibility as a Champion to be accessible to the people of Hoenn, and you have to learn to do that whether you like it or not. I'll give you a hint – it's a lot easier if you like it."

"Steven, I can't! It's not like I can't walk down the street for fear of being recognised or anything, but this is just going too far."

"You're not getting out of it," Steven said adamantly. "Now come on. It's already four o'clock, and we need to be there for five thirty."

Reluctantly, Ren followed Steven towards the lift, his heart sinking.


	4. Television

A/N: Here we are, now up to date with ye other sites. Slightly slower updates will continue from this weekend onwards. I love you guys, really.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_Televisión_

Downstairs, Steven ushered the still-fuming Ren into a car not unlike the one that had brought him to Devon Corp. This time, however, Roxanne was nowhere to be seen. The car ride was silent, frostily so. Ren spent the journey looking moodily out the tinted window as Steven looked on, a slight twist of amusement in the set of his lips.

When the car finally rolled to a stop, Ren stepped out unwillingly. On the other side of the pavement stood a low metal fence, painted green, beyond which stretched a picturesque expanse of grass, dotted with trees and patches of flowers arranged in seemingly random patterns. Under a tree some distance into the park, people were dashing around frantically, setting up a table, chairs and an enormous array of cameras, microphones and portable computers. Leads were being run from the site to a van parked near where Ren was standing, and in the midst of it all was standing a man Ren recognised instantly: Richard Andrews, the host of _Hoenn Buzz_.

Steven stepped over the fence and beckoned Ren to do the same. As they approached the hubbub, Ren examined the man who he had seen so many times on television, interviewing hapless celebrities and smarmy politicians for the whole Hoenn region to see. Richard Andrews was a tall man with a healthy crop of black hair, tied back in a short ponytail. His skin was a dark olive tone, bringing out his green eyes and white teeth. As the two Trainers approached, Andrews was engaged in conversation with a very pretty young lady who looked vaguely familiar to Ren.

As Steven and Ren drew near, Andrews noticed them and strode towards them, beaming, with arms wide. He embraced Steven like an old friend. "Steven Stone, you old rascal! It's been a while since I had you on the show."

"Only since last year's Conference," Steven said, smiling. Ren was slightly taken aback by his genuineness as he slapped Andrews on the back.

"Far too long, old buddy! Far too long," Andrews said jovially, releasing Steven and approaching Ren. Ren instinctively took half a step back; he hadn't realised quite how tall Andrews was on television. The man was well over six feet tall. "This must be Mr. Goodwin, then?"

Ren nodded, before finding his voice. "Yes, Mr Andrews. Nice to meet you."

Andrews guffawed loudly, slapping Ren on the back with such force that he just about fell over. "You hear this kid? 'Mr Andrews'? Ha! You call me Richard, kid – everyone does! And I mean that."

"All right . . . Richard," Ren said, swallowing. It felt strange to be in the presence of such a recognisable figure.

"Good stuff! And it's a damn fine pleasure to meet you too, kid! Say, s'all good if I call you Ren, right?" Richard put out his hand, grinning.

Ren took it cautiously and just about had his arm pulled off as Richard shook it energetically. "That's fine," he said quietly.

"Right on! Now, if you'll excuse me, folks, I have to go make a phone call. Back in just a minute!" With that, he saluted Steven with two fingers and jogged off towards the van.

Ren blinked, quite overwhelmed. It was as if a hurricane had just torn through the area, leaving just as quickly as it had appeared.

Steven chuckled and patted Ren on the shoulder. "You get used to him soon enough," he said. "He's a good man, Richard. He's not just friendly because he's on TV all the time. That's just how he is with everybody."

"Really? He was certainly . . . energetic," Ren said. Now that Richard had moved on, he remembered where he was. The show was due to go live in little more than an hour.

"That's one word for it," Steven agreed. He seemed a little more cheerful than before.

"Steven Stone," said a teasing voice from Ren's left. "Are you going to keep ignoring me?"

The speaker turned out to be the attractive young woman Richard had been talking to when they arrived. She was tall and slim, with gently tanned skin and deep blue eyes. Her brown hair barely touched her shoulders, exhibiting tasteful blonde highlights. Steven smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Bella! So nice to see you! It's been a while."

"Hasn't it just? You must've been so busy lately! What have you been up to?"

"Ah, I'm sure you've heard," Steven said, scratching his head. "I was busy losing my title to this gentleman here. Ren, meet Bella Bianchi, singer, actress and a good friend of mine."

"Nice to meet you," Ren said, nodding politely. He didn't feel up to cheek-kissing. He probably wouldn't be able to reach, in any case. "I . . . do believe I've heard of you."

"I would be surprised if you hadn't," Steven said. "Bella is one of the most prolific actors this year, for starters."

"Oh, come on, Steven. You can't expect everybody to know me!" Bella laughed. "But yes, that's me. Since I've had my introduction stolen from me, I'll have to settle for hearing yours." Her voice carried a slightly foreign lilt, pleasing to the ear.

"I'm . . . Ren Goodwin. Hoenn League Champion." With a start, Ren realised that it was the first time he had introduced himself with his new title. It felt strange, like it wasn't quite part of him yet.

"So I take it you're on the show tonight as well?" Steven addressed Bella.

Ren blinked, but quickly realised he was intruding. Nodding to Bella, he removed himself slightly and dropped onto a park bench, out of the way of the setup for the show. Already, he could see a few curious bystanders gathering around the border of the park. _Hoenn Buzz_ was filmed with a live audience, no matter where it was broadcast from, he remembered. The thought of sitting in front of such a large group of people as the Champion was quite frightening; he had thought that being televised would be bad enough.

Yawning, Ren pushed his hands through his hair, messing it up even further. Although it wasn't as if he'd been up at the crack of dawn, it had still been a tiring day. He hoped he'd get to sleep before too long.

The Dreamlight was still cold against Ren's chest as he cast his mind back to his conversation with Steven. It had been pushed aside by the whirl of activity in the last forty-five minutes or so, but now it returned in full force, bringing with it all the confusion it had had before, and then some. Steven obviously expected something to happen when he went to sleep that night, but what, he had no idea. The only clue he had was the name of the pendant resting just below his collarbone – the Dreamlight. Was he going to have a dream? But that wouldn't tell him anything, surely. In his experience, dreams were notoriously unreliable informants. The last dream Ren remembered having was the one with the Glameow with an afro. The feline Pokemon had led him through a maze of candy canes and lollipops before finally turning on him and trying to eat him.

_Yeah. Dreams don't make sense. They don't mean anything_. What had Steven been talking about? As much as he hated the prospect, he was forced to resign himself to the fact that he was just going to have to suck it up and wait. He knew that it would nag at him all evening, but at the same time he knew that he had more pressing troubles to deal with. _TV . . . I don't want to be on TV_.

Ren wasn't a shy person by nature. He knew that. There was still, however, something painfully intimidating about exposing himself in such a way. Ever since he had become the Champion, he had suddenly become recognisable. It was only his third day holding the position, but the strain was already starting to become too much.

_Was it a bad idea after all?_ Becoming the Champion had been a glittering, golden dream for years, always hovering at the edge of his consciousness, tempting and enticing him. But now that he had actually achieved it . . . _was it actually worth it?_

Ren saw no change in the future. If anything, it would get worse and worse. He was the Champion, and the Champion, as Steven had said, was as much a media personality as he was anything else. He would have to keep doing this. He would keep appearing on TV, and on the radio, and in newspapers. Sure, perhaps the hype would die down after a while, but it would always be there. He wouldn't be able to go out in public without being accosted by someone who recognised him, and he didn't think he could deal with that.

"Are you all right, Ren?" said a voice near his right ear. Ren jumped, his heart pounding.

"Jeez!" he exclaimed. "Don't do that!"

"Ah, I'm sorry." It was Bella Bianchi, Steven's movie star friend. "Were you thinking about something important? Should I leave?"

"A . . . little," Ren said. "And it's fine. I just wasn't paying attention."

"You seem a little distracted," Bella said, leaning back on the bench and stretching. Ren noticed that despite her impending TV appearance, she was dressed relatively casually, in a golden, sparkly top and black jeans. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I . . . what makes you think there's something wrong with me?" Ren didn't think that he had been looking particularly out of it. In fact, he had made sure to keep his face carefully neutral just to avoid this exact discussion with anyone who happened to pass by.

Bella smiled gently. "Ren, I've made a career out of putting on different faces at will and pretending to feel emotions I don't feel. After a while, it's not too hard to tell when someone else is doing the same."

"Oh," Ren said blankly. Glancing around, he added, "Where's Steven?"

"He's talking with Richard about the show," Bella said. She snapped her fingers playfully in front of Ren's face. "But hey! Stop trying to distract me. What's wrong with you? There's obviously something."

Ren took a deep breath, trying to decide how to put it into words, and indeed, whether he even should. He'd only just met Bella, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to burden her with his problems. _Still, it'd be nice to tell someone other than Steven_, he reasoned. He couldn't rely on the ex-Champion for sympathy. "I suppose . . . it's just that I'm not used to all of _this_," he said, waving his hand at the milieu of TV cameras and rapidly growing group of curious members of the public.

"It's the same for everyone who comes into some kind of fame," Bella said. "It's especially hard for those who become famous overnight."

"I can imagine that," Ren said. "Still, that doesn't make it any easier to swallow now. I still feel so lost when somebody stops me and says 'Hey, you're that new Champion kid!' I just start to panic . . ."

"I see," said Bella, tapping her chin with a manicured finger. "Tell me . . . how do you deal with it at the moment?"

"Well, it's only happened a few times so far," Ren said. "Mostly I just smile and try to get away from them as quickly as I can without being rude. If they want an autograph or something, I'll sign it, but it's just hard to not freak out."

"When I started getting a bit more well-known, it was much the same for me. Soon, though, I realised that I couldn't just run away from everybody."

"I know that!" Ren said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But still, when I think about getting up on TV and talking to Richard . . . it makes me feel sick."

"Haven't you done some of this already? Interviews and such, I mean?"

"Well, yeah," Ren admitted. "But it was just with reporters, or for five minutes on a radio talk show. Then there was that one press conference, but Steven did all the talking there. It was bad, but . . . this is something else. This is TV. This is _everybody_."

"That's what Richard's job is, though. He understands how you feel about this, and he'll make it easy for you. He'll start off with some easy questions, and then build it up a little bit at a time. He's really good at making people feel comfortable when they're in the chair. And Steven will be there with you as well, I understand. He won't leave you high and dry."

"It's not like I have stage fright or anything! Or . . . at least, I don't think so. It's more . . . the concept of it that bothers me. A little voice in my head is sitting there and asking 'Do these people really have nothing better to do than fawn over someone they saw on TV?'. I know it's horrible, but it's really bothering me. I feel like . . . I'm being turned into an object. Like I'm not going to be a person any longer if I keep it up. Do you know what I mean?"

Bella nodded slowly. "I think I actually do see now. And it makes it easier, if anything. When people are just scared of being in the public eye, it can take ages to get over. I've seen it in other people in my line of work. But when your problem is that loss of individuality . . . well, it's a far more serious problem with a far simpler solution."

"Really? There's something I can do?" Ren asked eagerly.

She laughed lightly. "Yep. All you have to do is give it a little while. It might sound hard, but just go with it for a few weeks. Throw yourself into every challenge you come up against, heart and soul. That way, you don't forget who you are. Your problem is that you've let what _you_ think _other _people think about youaffect what you _actually _think about yourself."

"I . . . don't follow," Ren said, blinking. "What I think . . . what?"

"Maybe that was a bit confusing," Bella admitted. "Basically, what I mean is that you're not looking at people's impressions of you. You're making assumptions based on what they say to you, and that's colouring your impression of how they view you. To them, you're still a person, even if you're a strange one. A kid as the Champion? It hasn't happened for a while, so naturally you're a fascination. But you're not an object. OK?"

Ren wished it was. "I see what you mean, but . . . I doubt it'll make a difference. I mean, I'll try, but . . . I'm somehow not convinced. I'm sorry."

"No worries. All you have to do is keep thinking about it, OK? I think you can get over this really easily. I won't push you, but just think about it, yeah?"

". . . Yeah. Thanks, Bella."

"Aha!" she said triumphantly, standing up and tapping him on the nose. "Gotcha!"

"Huh? What? What did I do?"

"You called me by my name," she said happily. "You hadn't done that yet!"

"Ah . . . didn't I? I'm sorry."

"Oh, stop apologising for everything, Ren," she said. "You're going to get all wrinkly if you keep frowning like that."

"Um . . . sor- I mean – I see. All right." Stretching, he stood up and took a deep breath. Although the air was cool, the sun was still quite high, showing through the buildings, dead west along the main street.

"Smile!" Bella said brightly. "I know you can, and you're not going to have any fun tonight if you keep worrying."

Ren tried to draw his lips into some semblance of a grin, but it still felt unnatural and a bit awkward. "You're being awfully nice to me," he said. "Why's that?"

"You looked down. What more reason do I need?" Bella smiled and spun around on the spot, looking up at the sky. "I think you and I could be friends, Ren. What do you think?"

"I . . . think that could be nice," said Ren, and with the admission came a realisation. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone he could call a friend. Sure, he had met hundreds of Trainers on his quest to become Champion. Some of them had been bad sorts, others good. Some had travelled together with him for a period of time, but that couldn't last forever. Friends had come and gone over the last five years, but none with any permanence had appeared. "I'd like that."

"Hey, hey, Hoenn! This is your man Richard Andrews and this . . . is Hoenn Buzz! Tonight, we're coming to you live from the picturesque Rustboro City, and man, have I got a lineup for you! First up on the show tonight we have Hoenn's favourite diva, the star of the upcoming blockbuster _One Flew Over the Swellow's Nest_. She also has three singles in this week's Top 40, including one that's charting in Johto and Unova as well. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you . . . Bella Bianchi!"

Ren watched in awe as Bella strode confidently in front of the cameras, laughing and waving as if the audience were old friends. She seemed so natural, so at home, as Richard stood up and bowed dramatically. She took her seat on one of the large red chairs set up next to Richard's desk, and the interview began – except that it didn't so much feel like an interview as it did a casual conversation.

She was masterful. Bella Bianchi played the scene with ease and grace, laughing at Richard's jokes and keeping the momentum going for the full fifteen minutes she was on the stage. When she finally left, blowing a cheeky kiss towards the cameras, the audience applauded wildly. "Game face on!" she whispered in Ren's ear as she passed. His mind was blank as he vaguely registered what Richard was saying.

"We're going to break for commercials now, ladies and gentlemen, but don't go anywhere, because right after this, I am bringing you Steven Stone – until recently, the Hoenn League Champion – and the gentleman who toppled him from that position, Ren Goodwin!" After the cameras cut out, Richard bounded out from behind his desk and hustled over to where Steven and Ren were waiting, out of the cameras' range. "All ready to go, guys?"

Steven nodded. "I'm ready." He seemed completely unfazed. "Ren?"

Ren took a deep, shaky breath. "I th- yeah. Yeah, I'm ready."

"Jeez, don't blow me away with your enthusiasm, guys!" Richard laughed. "Nah, I'm just screwing with ya. Let's get this on. I'll cue you on after the introduction, alright?" With that, he hurried back to his desk again.

It was a quarter to six, and the sun was starting to creep towards the horizon, but the orange-tinged rays were still falling straight down the main street, offering plenty of light, and technicians were standing by with extra lighting just in case. The two red chairs were adjusted, and the producer counted down the seconds until the show went live again. The cameras started rolling again, and at a cue Ren couldn't see, the audience rose to their feet, applauding enthusiastically as Richard took a deep breath and shuffled his papers before finally opening his mouth to speak.


	5. And Now, Something a Little Magical

A/N: Here we go. At last, I've caught up. This is the 'current' chapter, so you'll now be getting 'em here at the same time everyone else does elsewhere. Because of that, chapters will most likely be one a week or less. Take your time. ;-)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_Y Ahora, Algo un Poco Mágico_

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Steven Stone and Ren Goodwin!" Richard exclaimed, flinging his arm out dramatically towards where Ren and Steven were standing. Ren froze for a moment, until Steven elbowed him and the pair made their way onto the stage. The noise of the crowd somehow overwhelmingly loud despite its relatively small size, Ren stumbled and almost fell on the hastily cobbled-together steps up to the temporary stage. Richard welcomed them with a smile as they sat down in the enormous red chairs; Steven subtly pushed Ren towards the one closest to Richard.

"Well, this doesn't happen often!" Richard said, laughing. "Two Champions at the same time! On _my _show? Wahoo! Two for the price of one!"

Ren smiled despite himself. Maybe . . . just maybe, this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"Alright, alright," Richard said, quieting the crowd with a wave. "Can't hear myself think! Now, Steven Stone is the man everyone knows, so you get away with just a brief introduction. Until recently, Champion of the Hoenn League. Twenty-six years old, born and raised here in Rustboro. Likes Steel-type Pokemon, chocolate brownies, precious stones and taking long walks on the beach near Petalburg. Sound about right?"

"I don't know where you get the part about the beach from, Richard, but the rest is right enough."

"Eh, I just made it up. But we'll get back to you in a minute, Stevie boy. Right now, Hoenn is buzzing about this young man right here! Ren Goodwin, everybody!" The audience applauded again, and Ren resisted the urge to fiddle with the microphone on his collar. He had had his hair dealt with before the show, but he was still dressed in the same jeans and T-shirt. _Game face on_, he told himself. _Game face_. "So, an easy one to start with. How old are you, Ren?"

"I'm . . . fourteen."

"Fourteen! That's seriously impressive, my man. That's almost record-breaking stuff, right there. The youngest Hoenn League Champion ever was thirteen, if I recall rightly, but that was decades ago! You're the man of the moment right now, Ren. So tell me . . . how does it feel? Has it sunk in yet?"

Ren winced inwardly. So much for starting it out easy – Richard had thrown him a curveball right off the bat. "I think . . . it's sunk in as much as it's going to, Richard," he said. "I've had a few days to settle into it, and . . . although I'm still not quite sure whether it's a dream or not, I feel pretty good right about now." He was answering on autopilot, he realised as the audience laughed. He was saying what they wanted to hear, even if it was more or less true.

"Well, that's fantastic! I'd be pretty stoked myself if I beat the Champion, so I'd be surprised if you weren't. Good to see it's not gone to your head, though. Folks, I've had the opportunity to chat with Ren for a few minutes before the show, and I can tell ya, he's a real genuine kid. Awesome guy. Where ya from, Ren?"

"I grew up in Slateport, but I was born in Unova," Ren said. "We moved when I was just a few months old."

"Any particular reason?" Richard asked.

"Ah . . . for Dad's work. He's a lawyer, so he could have made it anywhere, but he decided we should move to Hoenn. I don't know too much about it, to be honest. It doesn't really come up in conversation." The discussion was straying into dangerous territory, and Ren made an effort to steer it back on course. "Slateport is all I've ever known, so I consider it home."

"Good to hear, kid! We love a Champion with some regional loyalty, don't we, folks? In any case . . . Steven! Your turn!" He made a gun with his fingers and fired at Steven dramatically. Playing it up, Steven clutched his chest and fell back in his chair with a groan. Ren tried not to laugh at the normally stoic Steven as Richard faked panic and concern. "Oh, damn it, I've gone and killed our ex-Champion! Don't arrest me, don't arrest me!" The audience loved it, although for Ren, the humour was starting to wear off already.

"I'm fine, Richard," Steven said, sitting back up and adjusting his collar. "What was your question? I'd say 'fire away', but at the risk of incurring more projectiles . . ."

"What everybody wants to know, Steven Stone. The battle! How did it feel to lose the title you've held for six whole years? We all watched it on TV, but we want to know what was going on inside your head."

"To tell the truth, Richard . . . I don't mind so much. In all my time as Champion, my greatest fear – probably my only fear – was that I would lose to a challenger who was unworthy of the title of Champion, but that's a non-issue with Ren. I feel comfortable handing my title over to him."

"Uh-huh. But tell me, Steven – what now? What do you think you'll be doing with yourself now that you're no longer the Champion?" Ren thought he saw Steven's jaw tighten, but it was no more than a momentary impression.

"I'm . . . not so sure, actually," Steven said quietly. "Now I'll have some free time to work on my research into Hoenn's geology. But in terms of long-term plans . . . nothing, really."

"Ooh, do I detect a hint of uncertainty in the man of steel?" Richard teased. "Ladies and gentlemen, Steven Stone!" The audience applauded again, just as Ren felt himself beginning to numb to the constant noise.

"Before we finish up, though, I want to ask a couple more questions. Firstly, one for Ren – what lies ahead for you? Steven's taking a break to work on his rock collection, but what do you think you'll be doing?"

"I . . . don't know either," Ren said. "I'm still not entirely sure what a Champion has to do, so I'll be looking to Steven for help on that one."

"Well, our previous Champion has plenty of experience, so I'm sure you'll be fine. You know, it's uncommon for a Champion to last more than a couple of years, especially one who specialises in a single type. The longest-serving Champion currently active is the Sinnoh region's Cynthia, who has held the title for eight years. And that brings me to my next question. Back to Steven for a moment – it's not unheard of for toppled Champions to seek a new title in other regions. Do you think that's something you could do?"

"It certainly sounds plausible," Steven admitted. "I'd have to collect a whole new set of Gym badges, though."

"Oh, come on, it couldn't be that hard! You made it all the way through the Hoenn League, and I don't imagine you were just chilling out all that time you were Champion. You're still one of the toughest trainers in the Hoenn region!"

"That may be so, Richard, but I feel my competitive days are behind me. I'll make sure to keep battling, though. That's one thing I'm sure of. I don't think I'll be retiring any time soon."

Richard laughed along with the audience. "Well, that's good to hear, Steven, my man. Now, we're almost out of time, but before we go – Ren! Tell me . . . do you have some sort of secret to your victory? A motto or some advice you can share with us? Hoenn's buzzin'!"

Ren thought about it for a moment. He almost considered using Steven's plant metaphor, but realised it would be too risky. Also, he didn't quite remember all of it, so he'd be likely to make a fool of himself if he tried to recite it. "Not as such. Just . . . I know it's been said a thousand times, but that's probably because it's true: if you keep trying and refuse to back down, you'll get where you're going in the end."

"All right! There you have it, ladies and gentlemen! Steven Stone and Ren Goodwin, our Champions old and new. I can hear Hoenn buzzin'! Till next time, folks!"

The audience rose to its feet in applause one last time, and Ren waited until the producer gave the all-clear signal before he collapsed back into the voluminous depths of his squashy red chair, his heart racing. Somehow, it seemed, he had managed to hold off the panic throughout the show. It had been over faster than he expected, but nonetheless, he was exhausted.

"Good stuff, kid!" Richard crowed as he practically leapt out from behind his desk to shake Ren by the hand. "Nice job for a first time on the show! Ever been on TV before?"

Ren shook his head blankly, suddenly incapable of speech. The audience was beginning to filter off in different directions, leaving behind only a block of white plastic chairs that some of the stage hands were already stacking up and loading into a truck that Ren hadn't seen before. The cameras were being folded up and packed into the van that was parked next to Steven's limousine.

"Well, you did fine, Ren," Steven said. "Good job."

"Thanks. Just don't spring something like that on me again."

"Oh, it'll happen," Steven said wryly. "You're a popular young man, now. Richard," he said, turning to address the big man. "A pleasure being on the show as always."

"Ah, we'll get you back sometime soon, Stevie boy. Milk it for all it's worth. Sorry it was such a short segment tonight. We already had Bella booked in, and we weren't able to reschedule at such short notice. She graciously agreed to take a fifteen-minute slot instead of the full half-hour, and it was too good of an opportunity to miss. Oh, damn it," he muttered suddenly, looking at his watch. "I have to run. Sorry, guys! Nice to have you on the show!" He dashed off without waiting for a reply.

"Well, that's that, then," Steven said. Ren noticed that he seemed to have returned to his quiet, serious demeanour of earlier. "Shall we go?"

"I suppose so," Ren said. "Hey, where's Bella?"

"I'm pretty sure she had to leave early, too," Steven said. "Celebrities are busy people, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Ren agreed. "Tonight was . . . pretty hectic."

"You did do well, Ren," Steven said suddenly as they started off toward the car. "I wasn't just saying that for Richard's benefit. I was a little afraid at one point that you were going to freak out on me, but you handled it well for your first time. And in fact, it was probably good that we got a short slot. Warm you up to it a bit at a time, and so on."

"I'm . . . going to have to get used to this after all, aren't I?" Ren said.

Steven nodded regretfully. "I'm sorry, but you are. But the sooner you accept that, the sooner you're going to grow accustomed to it."

"Oh, I've accepted it," Ren said unenthusiastically as he climbed into Steven's limousine. "I just don't like it."

"That's the spirit."

After they drove back to Devon Corp and picked up Natasha, Steven made arrangements for the two of them to be accommodated at a hotel owned by the corporation. He wanted to put them in the fanciest five-star establishment in town, but Ren declined politely, preferring slightly less ostentatious accommodation. He had, after all, spent the last five years sleeping under the stars and in Pokemon Centers.

So as a result, he found himself tucking Natasha into a single bed at the Sundown Hotel before dropping into his own, fully clothed. His cousin had retained her unusual quietness from earlier, dropping off to sleep with barely a word after a quick dinner at the hotel's café bar. It was slightly unnerving, to say the least, but, he reasoned, he should deal with it in the morning. Right at that moment, he was too tired to even see what his hotel room looked like. As he felt sleep begin to claim him, he remembered what Steven had been telling him about earlier. He hadn't exactly forgotten, but it had certainly taken a back seat to the pressure of the evening. Sighing deeply, Ren closed his eyes, slightly apprehensive, but at the same time extremely curious.

_The Glameow is back. That horrid creature, with its bushy black head of hair, struts along in front of him with a swing in its step, its tail flicking from side to side. Ren doesn't know why, but he follows it again, through the maze of oversized confectionery._

_Through the gaps in the walls of candy, he thinks he glimpses a familiar face, but he blinks and it is gone. All that remains is the little blue Pokemon and its curly tail, mewing innocently as it looks back to check he is following. Ren continues pursuing it, even though he knows it will only turn on him before they reach the exit of the maze._

_Abruptly, the Glameow makes a sharp left turn, its afro bobbing. The passages are narrower now, and Ren struggles to keep up with the Pokemon. He turns sideways and shuffles through a gap, only to find that the Glameow has disappeared._

_Suddenly alert, he glances all around him, searching for the foul creature, but it is nowhere to be seen. He backs up against a lollipop for support, but his hair sticks to the gooey, sugary confection and he finds himself unable to move._

_A yowl and a hiss above him. Ren wrenches his head upwards as far as possible and sees Afro Glameow leaping towards him, little fangs bared and claws out. Time slows down as the world goes dark. The giant sweets disappear, leaving only the sticky feeling on the back of Ren's head. Everything is black. There is no floor, no walls, no sky. Only Ren, and Afro Glameow._

_Struggling against the sticky substance holding him in place, Ren feels it give slightly. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself, he yanks his head forward, collapsing to the ground and hissing in pain as some of his hair is yanked out. There is no time to spare though, as he rolls and stands up again, watching Afro Glameow miss its target and land comfortably on all four paws._

_Afro Glameow stretches luxuriously, as if it has all the time in the world. It turns to Ren slowly, seeming to grin as it shows its tiny, razor-sharp fangs again. Ren reflexively lifts his hands in front of his face to protect himself as it lunges towards him._

_A flash of light, and Afro Glameow screeches and disappears. Wincing, Ren looks around for the source of the light, and finds it shining from a square opening above him. A hand reaches out from the opening. Awed, Ren reaches out and takes the hand. He feels himself being pulled . . ._

"Whoa." Ren found himself in another dark place. Unlike the candy maze, however, there was some faint light seeping in under the curtains.

_Wait . . . curtains?_ Ren sat up and glanced around. From what he could see, he was back in his hotel room. "Did I . . . wake up?" he whispered.

"Nope," said a cheerful voice from the end of his bed. "You're still dreaming."

Ren jumped, his heart hammering. "Who the hell-" Fumbling around in the dark, he found the light switch next to his bed and turned it on. There was a girl sitting casually on his bed. She was dressed in black leather that looked extremely tight, adorned with silver buckles and clips at seemingly random intervals. Her hair was black and straight, cut neatly a little shorter than shoulder-length. She seemed to be about his age, with slim, elfin features and an amused grin. "What are you doing in my hotel room?" he asked.

"This isn't your hotel room, Ren," the girl said. "You're still asleep."

"It sure looks like my hotel room," he said, taking another look around. There was the TV, the kitchen, the ensuite bathroom, the other bed, neatly made and clearly not slept in. _What?_ "Where's Natasha?" he demanded. His cousin was nowhere to be seen.

"Who?" The girl's smile slipped slightly.

"My cousin! She was in the other bed. What have you done with her? And damn it, what are you doing in my room?"

The girl frowned, and Ren thought he felt a shadow fall over the room. "I thought Steven was going to tell you about this so you didn't freak out on me. Don't tell me he just gave you the Dreamlight without explaining anything."

Suddenly, Ren remembered what he had been expecting when he fell asleep. "So . . . I am dreaming, after all?"

"Duh."

"It feels . . . awfully real. I don't _feel _asleep."

The girl rolled her eyes. "You want proof? Fine. Here." She snapped her fingers, and Ren's hotel room melted away into a milieu of liquid colour. When the scene resolved itself once more, she was sitting behind Richard Andrews' desk on the temporary stage that had been set up in the park. Ren found himself back in the same red chair he had been in before, but there was no Steven Stone next to him, no audience in front of him. Just him, and the girl.

Another snap, and suddenly Ren was back in his room at home, sitting on his bed while the girl peered out the window curiously. "Hmm. Nice view, here. This your house?"

Ren nodded speechlessly. The girl gave an appreciative murmur and snapped her fingers again. He was standing in the arena at Ever Grande City, in the same place he had stood when he challenged Steven to become League Champion. A heavy wind blew through the stadium, kicking up a dust cloud, just as it had three days ago during the battle. The girl was standing in Steven's box at the other end of the field. When she spoke, though, he could hear her voice as clearly as if she were right in front of him. "I see your memories, Ren. I can pass through your mind at will and see what you have seen, recreating it effortlessly."

"That's . . . kind of weird," he said.

"Weird? No." Suddenly, the girl was standing next to him again. "This is the power of dreams."

"I don't understand." He didn't. He didn't understand anything. What Steven had said was making less sense now, not more. "Who are you? Where is this, really?"

"It's as you see it," the girl said, the barest hint of a laugh in her voice. "We're in Ever Grande City, at the Pokemon League. It's just as you remember it, isn't it?"

"Not exactly. I remember there being a lot more people," Ren said.

"They're not here because we're not in their dream. We're in yours, and so you are the only person allowed in here."

"If that's the case, how did you get in here? Which brings me back to my other question – who are you?"

"I said you were the only _person_ allowed in here. I'm not a person, so I'm exempt from that."

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a spirit," the girl said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"What, like a ghost?" Ren asked blankly. "Did you die?"

"Not as such. More to the point, I never existed in the first place. Not in your world, at least. I came into existence here, in the world of dreams. My purpose is . . . to protect this world, and yours. And now, that's your purpose, too."

"I . . . don't understand."

The girl sighed. "I had a feeling you'd say that."


	6. Great Power of a Certain Kind

A/N: Chapter siiix. Not much to say, but this is where it starts to get . . . just maybe, a little intense. Let's see how it goes. Also, various people elsewhere have asked me when there will be Pokemon. I don't generally do this, but I'll tell you that they first appear in Chapter Ten, which I am writing at the moment. So enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_Gran Poder de un Tipo Cierto_

"This had better be quick," the girl said. "We don't have much time. What do you want to know?"

"To start with – what's your name?"

"Darkstorm. Elly Darkstorm. But never mind that. What do you need to know about what's happening right now?"

"Uh . . . everything?" Ren said. "I'm afraid I'm completely clueless as to what's going on."

"I see. What did Steven tell you?"

"Only that becoming the Champion has something to do with having a large amount of spiritual power or something."

"Ha! Spiritual power? It sounds so awkward when you say it like that, but it's essentially correct. In my native language, we call it _yehkti_. It might sound strange to you, but it's a far more accurate term. It translates to . . . well, it doesn't exactly have a direct translation, as your language doesn't have a word for it, as such. It's something like 'the fortitude of the soul', I think. But Steven had a good grasp of the concept. He even came up with a scale for it, though of course that's rubbish."

"It is?"

"Of course! _Yehkti_ isn't something you can attach a number to like that. It's a part of your very being. But there are other people who will tell you more about that. My job right now is to make sure you don't get killed or-" Abruptly, she broke off, her head snapping around to look at something in the distance that Ren couldn't see. "We're not alone," she said tersely.

"What? Who else is here?"

"Well, nobody yet, but we're about to have company, and not the pleasant kind. Can you fight?"

"Fight?" Ren exclaimed. "I don't have my Pokemon with me! Unless you can do something about that?"

Elly shook her head. "No. Pokemon are living beings, so I can't recreate them in this world. Pokemon are useless here. What I mean is, can _you_ fight?"

"Are you kidding? I've never even had to punch anybody. Why do I need to fight?"

"Because I'm going to," she said coldly, still glaring towards the other end of the stadium. The wind had died down, leaving the arena cold and still. "And if you can't, we might not survive the next five minutes."

"Can't you . . . do the teleporting thing again?" Ren asked hopefully.

"There's no point. All I'm doing is changing the appearance of this world – we don't actually move. We're trapped in a fixed space until you wake up."

"So, what . . . if I wake up, we get out of here?"

"Yes, but don't count on it. You're in a very deep sleep right now – almost unnaturally so. It's almost impossible to wake up from this, even with external stimuli. You'll wake up in the morning like normal, but until then you're stuck."

"But . . . it's just a dream, right? It's not like I can die or anything."

"I wouldn't make that assumption if I were you. This is no normal dream – you're on a different plane altogether, and the body and soul work much differently here. I don't know what would happen if you were killed here, but if I were you I wouldn't want to find out."

"Good point," said Ren. "So . . . who exactly are we talking about when you say 'company'?"

"Well . . . it's not so much 'who' as it is 'what'. They're malevolent beings of darkness, the flipside of your dreams. As every force has its opposite, so your dreams have these . . . creatures."

"So . . . like nightmares?"

"You could call them that, I suppose, although nightmares are technically dreams too. These are the things that go bump in the night, the ones that hide on the other side of the veil and try to claw their way into your dreams, and then out into your world."

"Into . . . my world?"

"Yes. That's the other reason we have to stop them. It's not just our own necks I'm worried about; it's everyone else's as well. The entirety of your world is at risk every time you go to sleep. Frankly, I didn't think they'd find you so quickly."

Ren tried to speak, but Elly hissed and cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.

"They're here," she said tersely. The next moment, Ren felt pain lance through his head as the very air tore itself apart. A great rip appeared in the far wall of the stadium, showing only whirling blackness behind it. Three man-shaped figures stepped out, silhouettes fabricated of pure darkness. It was difficult to see the shadowy, indistinct beings in front of the void, but as they moved forwards, the tear diminished and shrank, disappearing as quickly as it had come, taking with it the raging pain in Ren's head. All that remained was a quiet yet insistent throbbing.

"Those are . . . nightmares?" Ren said, squinting to get a good look at the newcomers. It was difficult to get a good look at them, like shadows on water.

Elly nodded, tight-lipped. "Pretty strong ones, too. One I could handle easily, and two would be a stretch, but probably doable. Three? Forget about it. I can't fight these on my own."

"Well, unless you've got some friends on call, we're going to have to," Ren said wryly.

She shot him a strange look. "We?" she queried.

"Yeah, 'we'. You and me. Both of us."

"But . . . you said you couldn't fight."

"And I was right. But I'd feel pretty bad about sitting back and letting you take those things on by yourself," said Ren, trying to disguise the fact that his heart was hammering with fear. The shadowy creatures were drawing closer, advancing slowly, cautiously.

Elly smiled slightly, and for the first time, Ren thought he saw a touch of vulnerability in her eyes. But then she blinked, and it was gone. "Thanks," she said. "I'm not sure how much good you'll be, but it's nice to know you care, at least. Here, take this." She snapped her fingers again and a short, slim sword appeared, the hilt bound tightly in some kind of purple fabric. She tossed it to Ren, who somehow managed to catch it without losing a finger.

He looked at it in awe and shock. "Where did this come from? I don't remember anything like this!"

"That's not one of your memories," the girl said. "It's my spare." Another click, and a much longer version of the sword appeared in her hands, over a metre and a half long, slim and slightly curved. It glistened harshly in the weak sunlight, and Ren shuddered. The shadows were evidently worried too, because they paused and recoiled slightly before regrouping and advancing again. They were just ten metres away as Ren gave the short blade an experimental swing.

_How do you even hold this thing?_ he wondered frantically as he weighed it in his hand. He had never swung a sword in his life, or even a tennis racquet, and he had no idea what he was doing.

"I'll show you how to use it properly later," she said. "That should be some incentive for you to survive, no?"

"Hooray," said Ren bleakly.

"I appreciate that you want to help," she told him, "but stay back here and let me deal with this. You'll just slow me down. Only use that if they come after you." With that, she launched herself towards the group of shadowy figures before Ren could say anything else.

Gripping his blade so tightly that his hands began to ache, Ren watched in amazement as Elly dived fearlessly at her opponents, sword flashing. It was something beyond his comprehension, he realised. He had suddenly stepped into a world he knew nothing about, a world that did not make the slightest amount of sense.

The nightmares had no visible weapons of their own, but they were fast. As soon as the girl moved, they darted apart, making themselves more difficult targets. Two of them circled around Elly warily, while the third continued its advance towards Ren.

They moved in a strange way, he noticed as he held the sword out in front of him and tried to steady his breathing. Their walk was jerky and sporadic, like puppets on strings, but they were still fast, he saw as the other two lunged at Elly. He wanted to cry out, but before he could open his mouth, the other was on him, slashing out at his head with one of its limbs. He ducked clumsily, just about losing his balance, and slashed awkwardly with the sword. The nightmare danced out of the way as if pulled by a string attached to its midriff.

"Bad dreams?" it whispered in a voice that seemed to be inside his head rather than outside it, then catapulted itself at him again. Ren threw himself out of the way, landing painfully on his left shoulder. Unfazed, the nightmare turned and advanced on him as he struggled to his feet.

_Oh, hell_, Ren thought. _Can these things even be killed?_ There was only one thing for it. Taking the initiative, he stepped forward as quickly as he was able, thrusting the sword towards where he approximated the nightmare's heart to be. As if it had seen the blade coming, his opponent's arm whipped up and parried the blade with a great clashing noise, as of steel on steel. Ren overbalanced and fell at the nightmare's feet. Before he could get up again, it reached down with a ghostly hand and grasped him by the collar, lifting him bodily off the ground and bringing his face up to where its own should be. No eyes looked back at him from the black expanse.

Frantic, Ren tried to swing the sword, but the nightmare caught it with its free hand and tore it from his grasp, dropping it on the ground. Ren tried to prise the thing's fingers from his collar, but its grip was like a vice. _Where the hell is Elly?_ Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of her, but she was still locked in combat with the other two nightmares. The sound of her slashes and thrusts being parried at every turn filtered through into his ears, which were rapidly growing numb. He found his vision going too as the nightmare brought its sightless face closer to his own; even thinking was a struggle.

The only thought in his mind was Elly's assertation that she could probably deal with two of the nightmares on her own. All he could do was hope to keep this one distracted until she finished with the other two and came to help him.

Summoning the last of his remaining strength, Ren brought his knee up vigorously into the nightmare's stomach – or rather, where its stomach would have been if it was a real person. It didn't have the effect he had been hoping for. Rather than dropping him, it tossed him bodily through the air. Ren had a split second to enjoy his returning vision before he crashed into the ground again.

He swore loudly as he landed on his already-sore left shoulder, and with it, the rest of the left side of his body. His head swam; although he had managed to avoid landing on it, it had still been given a serious rattle. As he pulled himself unsteadily to his knees, he saw the nightmare stalking towards him, the sword – his only weapon – lying in the dust behind it.

_Oh, how the hell did this happen?_ He almost would have preferred to be back in the maze with Afro Glameow. At least that dream he knew he was going to wake up from. _I don't want to die_, he realised as he dragged himself to his feet, swaying slightly. _I have a life back in the real world. A good one! I can't just go and die in some weird dream._ For a moment, he wondered what would actually happen if he died in this dream. Surely, it wouldn't affect his physical body? But then he remembered Elly's words.

_This is no normal dream – you're on a different plane altogether, and the body and soul work much differently here. I don't know what would happen if you were killed here, but if I were you I wouldn't want to find out._ Ren swallowed heavily. Fantastic.

Steeling himself, he dashed towards the nightmare. For a moment, the monster seemed confused, but it soon settled into a ready stance, arms outstretched hungrily towards him. Ren ran straight towards it and then dived past. The nightmare made a lightning grab for him as he passed, but Ren was rolling and then up again, scrabbling towards the sword lying on the ground.

He reached it and took it up again, holding it in front of him defensively. Better than nothing, even if he didn't know how to use it. Breathing deeply, he watched as the nightmare turned towards him slowly. If it had had a face, he thought it might have been amused. Once again it leapt towards him, but this time he was ready, bringing the sword up to interrupt it mid-bound, slashing vertically upwards and praying he would connect.

Contemptuously, the nightmare put its arm up to block his strike, but the sword wasn't there. Ren stepped aside as the dark being landed exactly where he had been standing. In the same movement, he swung the sword around to strike the nightmare in the back, biting into the unsuspecting thing's spine. At the touch of the blade, the nightmare exploded silently, a whirling gust of wind emanating from where it stood, carrying fragments of shadow with it.

As it departed, Ren felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He was able to breathe a little more easily, making up for a deficit he hadn't even noticed in the heat of the battle. He was just about ready to drop when he heard Elly cry out.

Ren swung his head round towards the source of the sound, and saw Elly flat on her back on the ground ten metres away as a nightmare towered over her, arm drawn back to deliver what would most likely be a killing blow. The other was nowhere to be seen. Elly's sword was some metres away on the other side. Ren knew he would never make it in time. Desperate, he did something very foolish and probably extremely stupid; he threw his sword at the nightmare as hard as he could.

Having no idea how to throw a sword properly – indeed, if there even _was_ an acceptable way to do so – he simply threw it overarm with all his remaining strength. It flew through the air clumsily, turning end over end. Barely after it had left his hand, Ren knew that his aim had been off. The nightmare lifted its head unconcernedly to watch the blade pass more than a metre in front of it before turnin back to strike downwards at the unarmed Elly-

-who was nowhere to be seen. Taking advantage of the nightmare's distraction, she had slipped out from beneath it, diving for her own sword. She picked it up and held it ready, leaping back towards the nightmare even as it cast around for her. The lethal blade slid through the centre of the mass of shadow, causing it, too, to vanish in the midst of a miniature tornado.

Ren collapsed into a sitting position, burying his head in his hands and sucking in huge lungfuls of the dust-ridden air. After a moment, Elly came over and joined him on the ground, her hair tangled and messy, beads of sweat visible on her face. Neither of them spoke for a minute, Ren merely enjoying being able to relax for the first time in a while. Although the fight had only lasted a couple of minutes, it felt like forever to Ren.

"You handled that sword like it was a baseball bat," Elly said eventually.

"Don't flatter me. I've seen some serious damage done with a baseball bat."

"Exactly. I didn't expect you to be able to survive a nightmare attack, let alone kill one."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Ren snorted.

"It's not my job to stroke your ego, _yehktira_," Elly said, slightly disdainfully.

"What . . . did you just call me?"

"_Yehktira_. It means 'carrier of the fortitude of the soul'."

"Uh-huh. You make it sound like it's real important," Ren said wryly.

"What, you think it's not? You think I'd be risking my neck for you otherwise?"

"You . . . have a point," Ren said. "But you said it wasn't just for our own sake that we had to kill the nightmares. Was that a lie, all that about how they would try and get through into my world?"

"No, of course not. But they came her tonight because they felt your _yehkti_. Nightmares need someone with a strong source of _yehkti_ to get through into your world. That's why the _yehktira_ is always in danger."

"Why have a _yehktira_ at all, then?" Ren asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar phonemes. "And if my _yehkti_ is this strong, how come none of this has happened to me before?"

Elly sighed and held up two fingers. "One, we must have a _yehktira_. If we don't, the fabric of the two worlds will fall apart. You're the only thing holding this world together at the moment. Whoever holds the Dreamlight must take on this role – the stronger the bearer, the stronger the bonds holding the worlds together."

"That sounds . . . pretty heavy," said Ren. "What's number two?"

"Number two is that before, you haven't had the Dreamlight in your possession. The nightmares can only enter your world through the dreams of someone who enters the second ring."

Ren stared at her blankly. "Meaning . . . ?"

Elly rolled her eyes. "You really are an idiot, aren't you?"

"Um . . . I honestly don't know," Ren admitted. He was beginning to think it was possible. It seemed that lately, people were doing nothing but explaining things to him. "I might be."

"Hmph. Anyway, this is how it works. Listen carefully, because I'm only going to say it once. The world of dreams exists parallel to your own. You had figured that out already, I imagine." With her finger, she drew three concentric circles in the dust. "This world is made up of three rings, or sub-worlds. The first ring, on the outside, is the largest. This is where normal people go when they dream, regardless of the strength of their _yehkti_. The dreams here are insubstantial, weak and mean next to nothing. Sometimes people gain premonitions and so on, and they are hailed as psychics in your world." She was failing to hide the disgust in her voice.

"Something against psychics?" Ren asked.

"Not in particular," she said brusquely. "In any case, that's what the first ring is. That is where I pulled you from when you were being attacked by that . . . thing.

"Afro Glameow, you mean?"

"You're . . . familiar with it?" Elly asked, her piercing green eyes narrowing.

"Well, I've had the same dream a couple of times. That's all, though."

"Hmm."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No. So, the first ring is where you were before. Where we are now . . . is the second ring." She indicated the next circle – the second largest one. "This is the inbetween. It takes many forms, and it is sustained solely by the will of the _yehktira_. It is built from his memories, and its size and stability depends on his strength. This ring is only accessible when the _yehktira_ is asleep, and it is through here which the nightmares must pass."

"So then . . . the nightmares come from . . . the first ring?" Ren guessed.

"Yes, and . . . oh, look, can we stop calling them 'nightmares'? It's confusing."

"But I thought you said that was what they were?"

"Not exactly. However bad they may be, nightmares are still only first-ring dreams. These things . . . they have a name in my language, but you probably wouldn't be able to pronounce it. You have enough trouble with little words like _yehkti_."

"Well, I have to call them _something_," Ren grumbled. "What are they? Demons? Ghosts?"

"Well . . . the direct translation of their name would be something like 'the empty ones without _yehkti_ that travel between worlds', I suppose."

"Did Steven seriously never worry about this?" Ren asked. It was just occurring to him how significant Elly's words were. Steven had been Champion for six years . . .

"He called them nightmares too. He got all sulky whenever I tried to correct him, though."

"Hmm . . . what does it mean when you say they're 'empty ones'?" Ren asked. "Empty of what?"

"Everything, really. But specifically . . . they don't have souls."

"Do you?" Ren asked. "I mean . . . what exactly are you? Some kind of spirit, I follow, but . . . eh." He waved his hands randomly.

"I _am_ a soul. Just as they are bodies without souls, my kind are souls without bodies."

"So what _do _you call them?" Ren asked in frustration. "At least let me try to say it."

"You sure?" Elly said, raising her eyebrows. "Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself. Ah, whatever. _Iehkti'na urum'na dar'sni-laku."_

Ren stared blankly. "That is the weirdest-sounding name I have ever heard," he said honestly.

Elly frowned. "I knew you'd never manage it. But look. We can argue over what to call them later. For now, I need to get you out of here and into the third ring. More of them could turn up, though it's unlikely."

"Why are we going to the third ring?" Ren asked as Elly pulled him, none too gently, to his feet.

"Because I'm sick of explaining stuff to you. It's not my job to babysit some kid."

"Oh, come on-"

"What? You think I'm the same age you are? Don't make me laugh. I've been here in this world for centuries. Now shut up and come with me." With a single slim finger, she drew a long vertical line in the air. For a moment, nothing happened. All of a sudden, there was a massive _boom_, as if of compressed air, and a gaping slit appeared along the line she had drawn.

Ren winced and pressed his hands to his ears. "Warn me next time you're going to do something like that!" he exclaimed.

"Eh. More fun this way," Elly shrugged as she watched Ren tentatively tap his ringing ears. She didn't seem to have been affected by the sonic blast. "You coming?" Without another word, she turned and stepped into the gap, disappearing from sight in a heartbeat.

Ren blinked. Taking a deep breath and hoping he wouldn't regret it, he stepped into the portal.


	7. Golden Dream

A/N: N/A

**Chapter Seven**

_Sueño de Oro_

Ren went tumbling headlong into nothingness. It was the strangest feeling – somehow it seemed as if he had left his body behind. No, he decided, it was more like he had been physically ripped from his body and dragged into . . . wherever he was now.

His surroundings were pitch-black save for a handful of stars scattered randomly around on all sides. He didn't seem to be moving very fast, but then again, he could hardly tell, because there were no points of reference from which to gauge his speed.

Abruptly, a light appeared ahead of him, and this was moving very fast indeed, hurtling towards him at great speed. He barely had time to register a square hole like the one Elly had pulled him through earlier before he was sucked through it and catapulted onto a patch of soft grass.

Sitting up and rubbing his head, Ren examined his surroundings. He was sitting in a field of soft, lush green grass that was nearly a foot tall. Next to him stood Elly, looking bored and unruffled, and about fifty metres away was the edge of a verdant forest. The sky was a sharp, cool azure, and there was not a cloud to be seen. A soft zephyr blew through, alleviating what gentle heat the sun put out. The world was silent but for distant birdsong.

Puzzled, Ren stood and looked behind him. Grass, plain, unbroken grass, stretched as far as the eye could see in all directions, interrupted only by the forest that fell away on either side of a point almost directly in front of Ren.

"You decided to come along after all, then," Elly said, sounding as if she wouldn't have been particularly bothered if he hadn't.

"Course I did," Ren said, brushing grass off the seat of his jeans. "I was hardly going to stay back there, was I?"

"You could have just left, you know," Elly said.

"You told me I couldn't leave!"

"I said no such thing. You could have simply returned to the first ring the way you came."

"What . . . the little square hole? But that wasn't there . . . was it?"

"Of course it was," Elly said contemptuously. "You really are slow, aren't you? You didn't even think to look behind you that whole time?"

"I was . . . kind of busy with the nightmares and the fighting and the running and the jumping and the _not dying_," Ren grumbled.

"A real warrior is always aware of his surroundings," said Elly, looking absently up at the sky.

"You sound like a fortune cookie," Ren told her. "So . . . I could have just jumped back through that hole at any time?"

"Not at any time. If you do that while the _Iehkti'na urum'na dar'sni-laku_ are around, they'll follow you through, and we're all doomed if that happens."

Ren snorted. "I'm sorry, but it still sounds really weird when you say that."

"Well, unless you have a better name for them, I'm going to keep calling them what they're actually called!" Elly snapped. "Honestly, how immature are you? Steven was weird, but at least he acted his age."

"Well, maybe Steven had some damn idea what was going on!"

"Maybe you would too, if you'd listen to anything I said! I must have explained everything to you already. You just don't pay attention! You're useless!" Elly hissed vehemently.

Taken aback, Ren sat back down with a _fwump_. "Told me everything already, you say," he mused, trying to ignore the rise in his strange companion's temper.

"Well, pretty much. Anyone with half a brain could work out what's going on from what's happened so far, combined with all I've said since I picked you up. So you tell me. What's the significance of that pendant you wear around your neck? What's your job in this world? Tell me that, and _then_ we can go see the elders."

"Elders?"

"Yes, the elders. They will formally recognise you as the new _yehktira_, but I'm not taking you anywhere until you prove to me you have half a brain by piecing together what you already know."

Ren nodded. The opportunity to think was a welcome one, and he did his best to ignore Elly's piercing glares as he tried to get his head around what had happened to him so far. If he was still asleep, it was the weirdest dream he had ever had, not to mention the most realistic. Of course, if it was all just a dream, it was possible that none of it was actually happening and it had no significance whatsoever.

No, he decided. That was just his fancy. There was little doubt that this was deadly serious. Steven had given him the Dreamlight, and then he had instructed him to expect someone who would explain further. Although she was somewhat lacking in the explanations department, Elly had essentially done just that. And why had Steven handed over the Dreamlight? _It means that you are currently the person in the Hoenn region with the highest spiritual power._

"You want me to be the _yehktira_ . . . because I have the strongest _yehkti_ in the region," he said slowly.

Elly nodded as if she had been expecting as much. "Go on," she said.

"The _yehktira'_'s role . . . is to hold the two worlds together, and to protect the real world-"

"Don't say that!" Elly snapped.

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"The 'real world'? Do you have any idea how naïve that sounds? Your world is no more real than mine!"

"Well, then . . . to protect the _physical _world from the . . . _Iehkti'na urum'na __dar'sni-laku_," he said, making a real effort to pronounce the name. It felt horrid and alien on his tongue, making him want to somehow spit it out.

The corner of Elly's mouth curled slightly. "You're getting there. Now add the two together and tell me what you get."

Ren's eyes widened. "D-don't tell me . . ."

"Ah, he gets it!" crowed Elly with a grin. "Oh, the look on your face!"

"You want me to come here every night and fight those . . . things!" he exclaimed, getting to his feet and glaring back at her.

"That's it," Elly said, shrugging. "Got a problem with that?"

"Hell yes, I have a problem with that!"

"Oh? Go on.." Elly's smile dropped, and her eyes became as hard as chips of emerald once more.

"I don't want to risk my life fighting ghost-things in my dreams all the time! That's not what I signed up for when I became Champion!"

"It's unfortunate," sighed Elly, "because I don't much like working with brats from the physical world either. The trouble is, we need a _yehktira_ here to hold both worlds together. But whenever the _yehktira_ is here, the _Iehkti'na_ come too. So either they never reach your world, but we let both worlds collapse on themselves-"

"-Doesn't sound too promising-"

"_Or_ we bring the _yekhtira_ here, hold the worlds together and fight the _Iehkti'na_ as we go."

"I see," Ren said. "No, I actually get that. It's infinitely preferable to having both worlds destroyed, but . . . why does it have to be me? Get Steven to do it! He managed for six years, didn't he? Why not just have him carry on?"

"That won't fly," Elly said, shaking her head. "Regardless of physical strength or mental capability, it is always the one with the strongest _yehkti _that we want as our _yehktira._ The stronger the _yehkti, _the stronger the bonds holding the worlds together and the harder they are to break, so we must have no less than the best. Unfortunately for all involved, 'the best' this time around happens to be a brat with an attitude problem."

"Well, what if I don't want to be the _yehktira_?"

"Then every night, I slip into your dreams and drag you, kicking and screaming, into the second ring. I tie you up and sling you in a corner, then I beat the crap out of the _Iehkti'na_ myself and put you back when I'm done!" she growled, putting her face right up next to Ren's and looking directly into his eyes with an intensity that made him shiver. "Does that sound good to you?"

"I don't dream every night, though," Ren countered.

"Oh, you do. People with strong _yehkti_ like yourself have dreams every single night, even if you don't remember them. I'll have access to your mind every time you close your eyes to go to sleep, and as soon as you enter REM, you're mine." She grinned predatorily, and Ren flinched.

"You're . . . just going to threaten me into it, then?" Ren asked, trying his level best to look her back in the eyes. It wasn't easy; they were extremely pretty eyes, the kind that made you want to lower your gaze in deference. Combined with the fact that she was glaring at him like a hungry Mightyena, he thought he was doing pretty well just to stay upright.

"If that's what it takes," she whispered, and an unpleasant shudder ran down the length of Ren's spine.

Reluctantly, he broke eye contact. "Fine," he said. "If that's how it's going to be, then there's no helping it." He was backed up against a wall, and he knew it.

"So we're agreed, then?" Elly said, stepping back smugly. "You be our _yehktira_, and in return, we don't let the _Iehkti'na_ tear you apart?"

"Sounds about fair," said Ren, who was, if he was quite honest with himself, on the brink of panic. _Hold it together a bit longer,_ he urged himself._ You can flip out later, when you're awake and safe_.

"Good. Looks like you might have a bit of common sense after all. Now, you can come with me." She turned and marched off towards the forest, swishing through the grass and looking oddly cheerful. Bemused, Ren jogged to catch up to her.

When they reached the edge of the woods, the shadow of the first trees looming over them, Elly turned and put a finger on his lips. "From now on, you do not speak until I tell you that you can. _At all_. Understood?"

Ren nodded. _What's that for?_ he wondered, but decided asking would break the 'no talking' rule."

"Excellent. Come with me, then." Elly led him off down a path that had been worn between the trees. The enormous trunks soared into the sky on either side of him, but there was still light filtering through from behind him. As they moved ever deeper into the forest, though, the canopy grew thicker, and it got darker and darker, until he was having trouble seeing where he was going. Stumbling over tree roots in the blackness, he longed to ask Elly if she had a light. _Oh, right, the 'no talking' thing_, he thought wryly. _Dammit._

Ren swore inwardly as he stumbled forward again. His eyes were just beginning to adjust to the blackness when he noticed that it was starting to get lighter. Gradually, he realised that he was able to see the path in front of him again._ Well, at least I won't trip again_. The light filtering through the trees ahead was a pale shade of blue – almost white, but still tinged with enough colour to be slightly painful to the eyes.

They passed a tall, gleaming marble column, and Ren felt his ears pop as if he had just taken off in an aircraft. Suddenly, the forest was full of noise, and there were people everywhere. Ren blinked and stopped walking. He wasn't in a forest any more – he was in a city.

A city made of light. The clear sky from outside the forest had returned, and the sun shone directly onto one of the strangest settlements Ren had ever seen. All of the buildings were made of white marble, but the ground between them was carpeted in rich, verdant green grass. Motes of light seemed to float around in the air like dandelions on the breeze, but whenever Ren tried to focus on one, it eluded his eyes.

The buildings were all small and elegant, none more than one story tall. As they passed, curious residents stopped to look. Ren sighed. He thought he might at least have gotten away from being the centre of attention in his own dreams. The people he saw were a motley arrangement. There were old people, children, men and women in a fairly natural ratio, but the manners of dress varied as widely as did the faces of the people.

_They must be spirits too_, Ren realised. There was a man in a suit of medieval armour, his plumed helmet tucked under his arm, calmly discussing something with a shaven-headed man who wouldn't have looked out of place in a biker gang. A man wearing a white toga was standing on a raised platform and declaiming loudly in a language Ren couldn't understand. Among his audience were a toddler holding a doll, a wrinkled old man and a young woman in a silver jumpsuit.

Everywhere they went, the sunlight caught and reflected off the corners and faces of buildings, sending rays of light dancing everywhere. The grass was soft under his feet, and despite evidently being well-trod, displayed no signs of decay. Flowerbeds of pink and blue were snugly tucked away between buildings and on the sides of the 'roads', as far as they could be called such. There were no cars, no buses, no traffic lights.

Looking behind him, Ren expected to see a forest. Instead, he saw the inside of a massive, shimmering blue cylinder that rose all the way to the sky. With a start, he realised that he could see it in front of him, too; the entire settlement was encapsulated by this unreal creation, shifting and flowing like water, held in place by some unseen force. At its highest, it melded seamlessly into the cyan sky, leaving only a haze behind it. And it, like everything else, seemed to exude light – pure, shining light that was just soft enough to look at directly without being blinded.

Ren shook his head silently, unsure if he was still forbidden to speak. He had never in his life been so sure that he was dreaming. He noticed that Elly was watching him with a half-smile on her face, a hint of smug pride in her expression. He smiled back tentatively and was rewarded with a sharp frown. Rolling his eyes, he looked back to his surroundings.

There was certainly no shortage of places for the eye to rest. Not only were the people the most varied group he had ever seen in one place, but the edifices between which they strolled were almost as diverse. While they were all single-storey buildings fashioned from gleaming marble, that was all they had in common. Some were squat and blocky, others rounded like domes, and still others were elegant cottages. Ren would have thought the material quite restrictive in terms of construction, but evidently there was some other force at work here, for the denizens of this mysterious wonderland had managed to fashion walls, roofs, and doors all from the same stone. _The engineering must have been a logistical nightmare_, he thought as they passed, of all things, a log cabin made of rolls of white stone. _Most of this shouldn't be physically possible_, he decided, shaking his head at an A-frame house made of the same.

His head was whirling. This was certainly the strangest dream he had ever had, Afro Glameow included.

"Here we are," Elly said brightly. Her mood, which had been steadily souring since he met her, had lifted considerably since they had arrived in the third ring. It was especially noticeable here, surrounded by her own kind.

They had stopped in front of one of the taller structures in the town – a classically-sculpted temple, with elegantly fluted columns supporting a low peaked roof. Friezes decorated the rim of the building, Ren noticed as he carefully stepped between the flowerbeds in front of the steps that led up into the temple proper. The friezes depicted scenes of battle – warriors in armour slaying indistinct figures that he identified as _Iehkti'na _dominated the decorations, though there were others he didn't recognise.

Elly led him up the steps and between the columns into the temple proper. The interior was cool and dim, in complete contrast to what Ren had just seen. Light filtered through apertures in the ceiling, casting dregs of light onto the floor like pools of white gold. At the far end of the temple was a raised dais,upon which stood five marble thrones in a row. The one in the middle was the only one that remained unoccupied – the others were already filled. Two men sat on the right, two women on the left. Were these the 'elders' Elly had spoken of? They didn't look that old to Ren. None of them could have been older than forty – one of the women was barely older than he was.

"Oh, good, everyone's here!" Elly said, smiling.

Ren frowned. _There's still an empty chair . . ._

"Wait here," Elly said, directing Ren to a spot on the floor that looked no different from any other. When she was satisfied with his position, she darted off behind a column and disappeared.

Nobody moved or spoke. Ren took the opportunity to examine the four people – were they actually people? What was he supposed to call them? – sitting on the massive thrones in front of him.

On the left were two men. The one furthest from the centre was short, pudgy and bald, smiling serenely as he watched Ren. The other was taller and extremely broad in the shoulder, with a sharply trimmed black beard wrapping around his face from one hairline to the other. His features were square and stern, but there was a regality in the set of his eyes that could not be ignored. Both men were wearing gold robes with intricate silver trim.

To Ren's right, on the other side of the unoccupied throne, sat two women. Next to the empty throne was a tall, stately woman with her blonde hair pulled tightly back, accentuating her high cheekbones and slim face. It was hard to judge her age from her features, but she didn't appear to be older than thirty. She watched Ren with a sort of amused interest, as if he were something vaguely entertaining that had mistakenly wandered into her field of vision.

Further to the right sat another woman, who looked to be barely older than Ren. The first thing Ren noticed was her hair. It was a strange colour, somewhere between gold and green, and it cascaded freely down her back as she sat on the edge of her throne. What Ren could see of it shimmered almost imperceptibly, confusing his eyes. Other than her hair, it almost looked as if she was related to the woman sitting beside her; she had the same slender face and figure, and she was watching Ren in a similar curious fashion. When she saw him looking, though, she winked at him cheekily. Ren looked away reflexively, suddenly remembering Elly's words. _You think I'm the same age you are? Don't make me laugh. I've been here in this world for centuries._ It was probably true of the others – even more so these 'elders'.

Both of the women were wearing delicate robes of diaphanous silver weave, inlaid with golden patterns of flowers and vines, as if in complete opposition to the costumes of the men. The fabric shifted and glittered whenever they moved even slightly, confounding Ren's eyes even further. He felt that if he had to see one more thing shimmering like that, he would pass out – if that was even possible within a dream.

"I apologise for the delay," said Elly's voice from his right. Ren glanced around and his eyes widened. Elly had reappeared from wherever she had vanished to, wearing the delicate silver of the elders, although her robe seemed to have far more gold woven into it than the others'. She noticed his shocked stare and demanded, "What are you looking at?"

Ren shook his head and looked down at the floor, hearing a quiet giggle erupt from the throne to the far right.

Elly harrumphed and swished across to the dais, seating herself easily in the largest of the five thrones. "Now that we are all present," she said, "why don't we begin?"


	8. Approval

**Chapter Eight**

_Aprobación_

"First, introductions," Elly said calmly, ignoring Ren's flabbergasted expression. "Shall we start with the boys?" For a terrifying split second, Ren was reminded of his first teacher at school.

"Lucius Balthazar," said the bald man cordially, nodding in Ren's direction with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, _yehktira_." He had a noticeable accent that rounded his vowels slightly and rolled his r's. Unsure whether he was allowed to speak yet, Ren nodded back respectfully.

"Bartholomew Elsin," said the bearded man, his eyes seeming to pierce Ren's own. "Vice-head of the elders' council."

Ren expected Elly to skip her introduction, but she spoke up nonetheless. "Felicia Darkstorm, head of the council," she said.

"My name is Salinthia Silverwood," indicated the tall woman next to Elly. "And this is my sister-"

"I can introduce myself!" the girl with the green-gold hair snapped. "I'm Cecilia Silverwood," she said to Ren, inclining her head gently. "As you heard, I am Salinthia's younger sister. It's truly a pleasure to meet you, new _yehktira_. Steven has told us all about you."

"Introduce yourself to the council, _yehktira._" Elly's voice rang out coolly.

Ren fumbled awkwardly. Suddenly he was expected to speak? _Oh well_, he thought, resigning himself to the fact. _Might as well make the best of it. _"My name is Ren Goodwin," he said, his voice ringing from the walls as he made his best effort to project it throughout the temple. "I am most honoured to make the acquaintance of the council of elders, and I hope to serve you well as your new _yehktira_." He didn't know where the words came from – they sounded false, even to him – but the council seemed pleased. Bartholomew Elsin nodded appreciatively, and Salinthia Silverwood leaned over to whisper in Elly's ear.

Elly bit her lip before speaking. "The council desires your pledge, Ren Goodwin. Will you, until such time as one arises who is stronger than you are, serve as our _yehktira_ to the best of your ability?"

Ren sensed that he was being given his last chance to turn away – as if he could at this point. Trembling slightly, he nonetheless stood upright and firmly declared, "I will."

"And do the members of the council approve of the appointment of Ren Goodwin as the new _yehktira_?" Elly asked formally. "Let it be witnessed that he has been legitimately found to possess _yehkti _of a higher level than his predecessor, and as such he is qualified for the position."

Lucius Balthazar spoke up first. "I see he is ready to take on the position, and so I give my approval."

Ren couldn't help but shiver. This was all happening very fast, and he was almost asleep standing up to begin with. If he let himself relax, he sensed, he would collapse onto the cold marble floor.

"Ren Goodwin," rumbled Elsin. "First I must know. Do you take on this position of your own free will, asserting you have not been coerced or in any other way influenced towards your decision?"

Ren fought the urge to glance at Elly – _Felicia_, he corrected himself – keeping his eyes fixed on the big man. To be honest, once Elly had presented him with his choices, there was no real way he could have refused. He didn't like it, especially as it had been sprung on him so suddenly, but that was just how things were sometimes. _Sometimes you have to make choices that determine the future at the drop of a hat_, his father had once told him. _Sometimes it's your own life, sometimes it's someone else's. But whatever the case, you have to take the choice that's best in the long term. Just because you don't think about it for as long doesn't make it any less important or more foolish._

"I made my choice of my own free will, sir," Ren agreed. "I couldn't have refused in good conscience, anyway." That much was true. As much as Ren wanted nothing to do with the whole affair, Elly had made it abundantly clear that the world was doomed if he refused. How could he have refused after that?

"In that case, I also submit my approval," Elsin said, apparently satisfied. As Ren's eyes flicked over to Elly, he noticed that her cheeks were a little flushed, although none of the other elders seemed to have noticed.

"I, also, have no objections," said the older of the two sisters after a few seconds' pause. "Felicia, what is your opinion?"

"I brought him here, so I have had ample time to consider his suitability for the position. I deem him capable, and so I also approve."

"I noticed you were gone for quite a while," Cecilia said slyly. "Surely it shouldn't take you too long to pick up one human? What took you so long?"

"I don't like your tone, Silverwood," Elly said coldly, fixing the other girl with a glare that could have split rock.

"Alright, alright!" Cecilia said, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender that was quite at odds with the michievous grin on her face. "It's none of my business what you get up to with our _yehktira _while nobody's looking. If you want to sneak off and b-"

"While I do not share my sister's suspicions as such," Salinthia cut in smoothly, "it is true that we were expecting your return earlier. Did something happen?"

"Ah . . . yes," said Elly, blinking as if suddenly remembering. "The _Iehkti'na_ found us. Three of them, and quite strong, too."

"They shouldn't have been able to sense your presence," Elsin rumbled, "provided you took the usual precautions."

"Of course I did, Elsin," Elly said. "But that means that it must have been Ren that they sensed, and that means-"

"We all know what it means, Felicia," Balthazar interrupted her calmly. "We can discuss it later, however. For now, I believe all that remains is for one more person to give her approval. Miss Cecilia?"

Ren had been watching with some confusion as the strange assortment of spirits in front of him rallied back and forth. Despite being hundreds of years old, there were a couple of them who certainly didn't act it.

"I don't have any problems with him," Cecilia shrugged, eyeing Ren thoughtfully. He shivered involuntarily and looked back to Elly.

"Then it is done," the black-haired girl said. "Ren Goodwin, you are officially our new _yehktira_."

"I don't feel any different," Ren commented.

"There's no physical change, moron," Elly said, stepping down from her throne and approaching Ren. On either side, the other elders followed suit.

"So . . . now what?" he asked.

"Now, I think, you wake up," Salinthia said gently. "That's probably quite enough excitement for one night.

"It can't be morning already!" Ren exclaimed.

"Time works differently here, boy," Elsin said patiently. "There is no concurrent flow, no correspondence. The hour or so you have spent here took place in less than five minutes of your time."

"What? That's impossible!" Ren protested.

"You should know better than to call anything impossible by now, _yehktira_," Elsin said.

"That's right," Elly said. "Nothing is impossible. Still . . . I'm sure you have many questions. For now, though, we shall return you to the first ring. From there, you'll wake up normally. Think about everything that's happened, and tomorrow we can discuss it further."

"What, now? But I-"

"You're going," said Elly firmly. "I know it's probably a lot for you to deal with, so take a day to have a break. Talk to Steven about if you like, or just, you know . . . think about it."

"I'll take him back!" Cecilia offered brightly, suddenly appearing at his side. She had somehow managed to change into a short red dress that wouldn't have looked amiss on one a Nimbasa City catwalk. She had tied her voluminous hair back as well, and if it hadn't been for its unusual colour, she would have looked quite normal, albeit extremely pretty. "Elly's got some work to catch up on, I'm sure, seeing as she's been busy having fun with our little _yehktira_ here."

"Are you looking for a black eye?" Elly scowled.

"Ooh, I'm scared!" Cecilia giggled, hiding behind Ren and peeping over his shoulder. "Protect me from the crazy girl, Ren!"

Ren sighed. "Are they usually like this?" he asked Elsin, who was watching with some amusement as the two girls continued hurling taunts at each other.

"Oh, whenever they're not on the job," Elsin said. "I have no idea why, but as soon as they get off the thrones . . ."

"It's just a way to relieve stress," Salinthia said with a benevolent smile. "Wouldn't you get a bit restless after seven hundred years on the council?"

"S-seven hundred years?" Ren's jaw dropped as he took another look around at the members of the council. None of them looked seven hundred years old – least of all Elly and Cecilia, who had both by now degenerated into helpless laughter. "You're kidding, right?"

"What, did you expect a bunch of creaky, wrinkled old folks?" Balthazar laughed. "Our appearance has not changed in centuries. There would be no reason for us to age like humans if we are not. Our existence permits us to live forever unless we are killed, yet what would be the point in that if we slowly became too decrepit to move? So we sit up on our thrones and speak of heavy things in heavy voices, but once we step down, we must enjoy life as much as we are able. The _Iehkti'na_ cannot find us here, so our life is one of peace. Our only real concern is holding the worlds together, and that, of course, is why we need you."

"You make it sound so simple," Ren said quietly.

"Oh, it is," Balthazar said genially. "You are like the glue that holds both worlds together. If we do not reapply the glue every night, then both worlds fall apart. It's as easy as that, yet it causes us so much strife. But you should leave now. This is a lot for you to take in, I'm sure, so you should return to your own world for now."

"He's right!" Cecilia chimed in suddenly, breaking off her increasingly heated argument with Elly and slipping her arm casually through Ren's. "Shall we go?" Without waiting for a response, she lifted her hand and drew a circle in the air. Ren, realising what was about to happen, tried to step back but failed to escape the sonic shock that rippled through the air. He swore under his breath as Cecilia pulled him into the portal, but his words were snatched away from him by the sudden acceleration.

With a thud and much creaking of springs, Ren landed back on the bed in his room. Cecilia was already standing by the window, seemingly engrossed by the view. "The human world is so pretty," she said wistfully.

Ren got to his feet and joined her, watching the waves sparkling at the bottom of the cliff and beyond. "I don't know about that," he said. "Your world's pretty nice too."

"Perhaps," she admitted, "but you get a little tired of it before long. It's hardly changed in seven hundred years. You can't leave the city, because the _Iehkti'na_ are out there. The barrier . . . the blue wall you would have seen as you came in? It keeps them out, prevents them from sensing us, but at the same time . . ."

"It keeps you in," Ren said softly, completing her sentence.

Cecilia smiled. "Yes . . . I'm glad you understand. Humans are so lucky. Even if their lives aren't as privileged as ours, they have freedom we don't. I'd rather spend eighty years in your world than a thousand in mine. You can go anywhere you want, do whatever you like. You can see a thousand places, meet a million people, each one individual and unique."

"And in exchange, we get old and die," Ren reminded her.

"Sounds like a fair trade to me," Cecilia said. "What's the point of living for hundreds of years if you can't enjoy them? I've spent seven centuries on the council, and all I've done in that time is continue to protect the _yehktira. _Is there even any meaning in that? No offense, of course!"

"None taken," Ren said charitably. "Well, I mean . . . man, I don't know, Cecilia."

"I wouldn't expect you to know the answer to something I've been asking myself for hundreds of years," she said, laughing, but there was a touch of bitterness in her voice. "I'm sorry. I'm being silly. I didn't come with you to complain. I came to mess with Elly's new boy-toy."

"B-boy-toy?" Ren spluttered. "What are you talking about?"

"Aha, you're getting all red," Cecilia said knowingly, prodding him in the chest with her index finger. "You two took _sooo_ long to arrive before. Now 'fess up. What were the pair of you up to?"

"What do you mean, what were we 'up to'? We weren't 'up to' anything!"

"Uh-huh," she said, clearly unconvinced. "You know what? I'm not buying Elly's story about the _Iehkti'na_ appearing. They shouldn't have been able to find you, especially as it was your first time in the second ring. It usually takes them at least a few nights to get used to a new _yehktira_ and start attacking in force. It was a pretty poor cover story, to be honest. So . . . ?" She left the question hanging in the air.

Ren shifted uncomfortably. "So what?" he asked.

"How was she?" Cecilia asked with a mischievous smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ren said firmly, "and I really think I should be going back now." Cecilia was beginning to make him uncomfortable.

"Oh, no . . . not until you give me the details! I'm not letting you go that easy."

"You just want to tease her, don't you?" Ren sighed.

"So what if I do?" Cecilia pouted. "Come on, spill!"

"Nothing happened!" he insisted. "She brought me into the second ring and started to explain what was going on, but we were interrupted by three of those _Iehkti'na_ things. After we killed them, she brought me into the third ring and essentially made me repeat everything she'd told me so far, just because she didn't think I was smart enough to remember it," he recalled, somewhat miffed. "It wasn't until after that that she brought me to the council."

"Hmm," Cecilia droned flatly, not sounding terribly convinced. Abruptly, she danced back and sat down on Ren's bed, exhaling lightly through a thoughtfully twisted mouth. "At least your stories match . . . and that _does_ sound like something she would do, but come on. I've never known Elly to be one to hold back. I mean, sure, you're a little younger than she normally goes for, but age doesn't really mean anything when you're seven hundred years old." She kicked her legs absently, gazing at the ceiling as if it held some special interest for her.

A sudden, disturbing thought struck Ren. "Hang on . . . she didn't . . . with Steven?" He found himself unable to complete the sentence, but Cecilia seemed to follow him well enough.

"Oh . . . are we jealous?" she cooed.

Ren frowned, feeling his face heat up slightly. "Don't be absurd. I was just curious . . . no, you know what, forget it. I don't care anyway."

"Steven was too stuffy for her. For me too, for that matter," Cecilia sulked. Then she brightened considerably, a slightly predatory grin starting to form on her face. "You look fun, though," she mused.

Ren sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just send me back to the first ring, will you?" he asked hastily.

"Aw, am I making you uncomfortable, sweetie?" Cecilia teased. "Well, all right. If you don't want to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about!" Ren reaffirmed._ I'd rather take my chances spending the rest of my night with Afro Glameow,_ he decided in exasperation.

Cecilia grinned. "All right, then. But if you ever _do_ need to talk about it, you know where to find me. Or . . . I know where to find you," she corrected herself as she drew another portal on Ren's bedroom wall – a silent one this time.

"That's reassuring and not at all creepy," Ren said with a straight face, crossing the room to enter the portal.

"Of course. Now, look. Tomorrow night, when you go to sleep . . . one of us will be along. It'll most likely be one of the elders, but it might equally be someone you don't recognise. You'll be able to tell them from an _Iehkti'na_ if that's the case, though, so don't worry. The horrible things can't talk."

"Good to know," said Ren.

"In all seriousness, Ren," Cecilia said, "go back to your world and just take a day to get used to the idea. I know this seems huge right now, but it's your job whether you like it or not. Trust me, it's easier if you learn to like it."

"You sound exactly like Steven," Ren said, pausing with his hand an inch from the portal.

"If he said that, he probably stole it from me," Cecilia said. "Say hello to him from me, by the way. He was a good _yehktira_, and I liked him, even if he was a bit . . ."

"Stuffy?" Ren suggested with a smile.

"Don't tell him I said that!" Cecilia warned him, grabbing his arm to prevent him from leaving. "Alright? Not a word."

"Got it," Ren said with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Maybe," she said. "I might not get to the second ring tomorrow. We'll see. Have fun." Swiftly, she leant forward and planted a kiss on his cheek before nudging him in the back so that he fell forwards. The instant he touched the portal, he was sucked into it, once again falling, out of control, down, ever downwards . . .

_Fwump_. _He's back in the candy maze. Afro Glameow hisses at him from the other side of an enormous lollipop before stalking round it to glare at him with sharp yellow eyes. "Ah," Ren says awkwardly, the spot where Cecilia's lips touched him still tingling strangely. "Hello."_


	9. I Think the Cat Has a Problem

**Chapter Nine**

_Creo que el Gato Tiene una Problema_

_Advancing on him slowly, Afro Glameow yowls indignantly, seemingly furious at having its prey snatched away earlier._

"_All right," Ren sighs. "What's your problem? You want to eat me again? Come and try it." He suddenly feels a lot braver than he did before._

_Afro Glameow hisses uncertainly, slowing its advance and eyeing Ren warily._

"_Yeah, that's right. Sod off. I haven't got time to deal with you," Ren tells it, stepping forward threateningly. His furry nemesis skitters backwards, but then rallies, slinking back and forth in front of him as it tries to judge whether or not he was a threat . . ._

"Ah!" Ren sat up with a start. He was back in the hotel room, he realised momentarily. Struck by a sudden thought, he glanced over to the other bed, where Natasha's sleeping form was clearly visible. He breathed a sigh of relief and lay back down.

The room was suffused with early-morning light that was doing its level best to fight its way past the heavy curtains. Ren allowed his head to sink back into the luxuriously puffy pillow with a sort of relief. It was nice to be back. He took a deep breath and let it out all at once, allowing his heart rate to return to normal.

_That was officially the strangest, most screwed up dream I have ever had_, he decided. For a brief moment, he toyed with the notion that it had been just that – a dream. But it had been too real, too vivid to deny. He had to accept that it had actually happened, and as a result he had to accept the legacy that Steven had handed to him.

_It won't stop me from giving Steven an earful when I see him next,_ Ren thought wryly. He felt a little cheated that he had had such a responsibility thrust upon him without being told about it. While he understood that Steven could hardly have announced the existence of the world of dreams to every Trainer who challenged him, he couldn't help but feel a little resentful at not having been given any choice in the matter.

As if reacting to his very thoughts, his Pokenav buzzed on the bedside table. Ren snatched it up and pressed the talk button. "Hello?" he said quietly, glancing across at his still-sleeping cousin.

"Good morning, Ren."

"Arceus, Steven! Are you watching me?"

"No." Steven sounded puzzled. "What are you talking about?"

"I literally woke up thirty seconds ago!" Ren hissed. "In any case, you still have a lot of explaining to do."

"I see," Steven said. "You had better come over here right away. Talk to the concierge, and he'll have a car brought round."

"Fine," Ren said, rolling his eyes. "See you when I ge-" The line went dead. Ren stared at it for a minute, but then simply shook his head in disgust and rolled out of bed to wake Natasha.

Half an hour later, Ren found himself in Steven's 'conference room' again, Natasha once more left in the care of Katrina Stone. Ren yawned and looked at his watch again – still only quarter to seven in the morning. It was ridiculously early, and even though Ren had fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow the previous evening, he was still somewhat tired. One part of his mind wondered if it was a side effect of the strenuous activity within the dream, but that shouldn't have had any bearing on his life in this world . . .

Ren snorted as he listened to his subconscious ramble on. Here he was, less than eighteen hours after Steven had first hinted at the existence of the other world, and already he was taking it for granted, factoring it into his musings as if it was some kind of constant.

"Cecilia says hi," he said at length, once he had realised that Steven was unwilling to break the silence between them.

"You didn't have any problems with her, did you?" Steven asked.

"Not particularly," Ren said. "Why?"

"Oh, nothing really. She's a wise elder, and I've never seen anyone treat a wound like she can, but she's a terrible flirt."

"Oh, that," said Ren, waving it off uncomfortably. "I noticed."

"Not bothering you, then?"

"Nope."

"Good."

The two of them lapsed back into silence for a minute. Ren chewed his lip and stared absently at the ceiling as Steven fiddled with his cufflinks. He had lined up so many things he wanted to say to Steven before coming, but now, none of them seemed worth saying. Most of them appeared childish, even to the mind that had spawned them. _Why didn't you tell me? It's not fair! I don't want to do this! You can't make me do it!_ In the privacy of his own head, he raged against Steven and everything he stood for, but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Most of them, he realised with a shock, were exactly the same as his protests against appearing on _Hoenn Buzz_ the previous evening.

_Ugh, how could I have been so immature?_ he chastised himself. _I must have sounded like a little kid!_

"About the television appearance last night-" Steven said suddenly, but Ren cut him off.

"No. Don't even – no. I'm sorry about that fuss I raised. In hindsight, it was probably the worst way I could have reacted. I was immature and stupid, and I apologise. I wasn't thinking properly."

Steven smiled knowingly. "Funny how a night travelling between worlds affects one's world view, isn't it?"

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Steven didn't reply immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and focused on a spot on the wall. Ren followed his gaze, but there was nothing there except a stretch of plaster, much the same as the rest of the room. "Do you know why people like me, Ren?" he said at length.

"What?"

"I don't mean to be egotistical, but I've noticed it. So have you, I'm sure. I seem to get along with people a lot more easily than others."

"I . . . guess you could say that," Ren said. While Steven Stone was hardly a poster boy for friendliness and sociability, he had noticed a certain magnetism about the former Champion that was difficult to explain.

"I wasn't always that way," Steven admitted. "Six years ago, before I became Champion, I was quite the opposite. It's not like I was a horrible person, but . . . I shut people out. I was polite where I needed to be, but I saw no reason to actively engage with other people. That changed the first time I put on the Dreamlight." He fell silent once more, staring off into the middle distance with a look on his face that Ren would have called wistful if he didn't know better.

"It changed? How did it change?"

"It made me think," Steven said simply, returning his attention to Ren. "I realised that there was something bigger than me, and that in turn brought me to the realisation that I was being petty. I said to myself: Steven, there's another world out there, full of people who would dearly love to have the freedom you do-"

"Cecilia gave you that speech too, huh?" Ren said. Somehow he was unsurprised. "But yeah, I follow you. She's right."

"That was when I decided I was going to make the most of my life," Steven says. "Call it corny, or cheesy, or whatever food-related idiom you desire, but I figured I was going to live every day to the fullest. _That_, Ren, is what I was talking about when I said the Champion had to be accessible. It's a bit of a jump, but it's essentially the same thing. The way I see it, there's no reason for you _not_ to go along with the whole publicity deal."

Ren frowned. "You don't need to convince me. I've resigned myself to that. Hell, I've resigned myself to everything. At first, I was a bit put out, understandably, but . . . after thinking it all over for a while . . . I haven't got a choice. But anyway, I'm pretty content to go with the flow for a while." Being back in the real world was refreshing, Ren realised, and Salinthia had probably been right to suggest he return to think about it. His mind worked more clearly, and it wasn't such a terrifying prospect any more.

"Are you sure?" Steven said worriedly. "It's a dangerous job, being the _yehktira_. Every night you get pulled into the second ring, and you can't leave until all of the nightmares have been destroyed. If you leave just one alive, it'll follow you back to the first ring and out into our world, so you can't take the chance. It's not like you can just put an appearance in and then leave. You know that, right?"

"Well, I'd kind of figured as much," Ren said, shrugging. "But that's fine. The spirits will protect me, after all. And I certainly handled that one last night pretty well, if I do say so myse-"

"What? The nightmares came last night?" Steven said sharply. "They shouldn't have been-"

"-able to sense my _yehkti_, I know. I heard," Ren finished. "Whatever the case, they were there and they were nasty. Elly and I dealt with them, though."

"Elly?" Steven said, apparently not recognising the name.

"Um . . . Elly? Felicia 'Elly' Darkstorm, head of the council of elders?"

"Felicia . . . I never heard her refer to herself as Elly. Nor did anyone else, for that matter. How strange."

"Perhaps it's just a phase," Ren suggested. "For all we know, she changes it every time there's a new _yehktira_."

"They're . . . strange beings," Steven said. "I want you to be careful, Ren. They're very old, and very wise, but living for so long has driven them slightly mad, I fear. They will not harm you – of course, you are the only thing holding their world together, as well as our own – but you cannot rely on them. They will protect you with their lives, of course, but . . . they work in strange ways. They are fickle, and while their dedication to keeping you alive may never waver, they are certainly more than capable of making your life hell if you offend them."

"Speaking from experience, are you?" Ren asked, smiling amusedly as Steven averted his eyes.

"Yes, I am," he admitted quietly. "To this day, I don't know what I did, but there was a period of a month or two where they were as cold as ice with me. It didn't make for pleasant dreams."

"Do you know what happens if the _yehktira_ does die?" Ren asked suddenly, voicing something that had been on his mind ever since he woke up. "Surely it's happened at least once."

Steven shook his head. "No. In fact, until relatively recently, being the _yehktira_ was not much of a risk at all. About twenty years ago, I hear, the nightmares were little more than an annoyance. The purpose of the _yehktira_ was only to step into the second ring every night and refresh the bonds holding the world together. The nightmares, when they did appear, were easily dealt with; they were small, weak creatures."

"So why the change?"

"I don't know. I don't even know if the elders know, but if they do, they never told me. From what I heard, there are massively powerful nightmares in the third ring, but they can't get through into the second ring for some reason. It's these things which the spirits are hiding from in their little forest glade, by the way. But only the little ones, apparently, could get through and plague the second ring. Even in the six years that I've been _yehktira_, I've seen the average size of the nightmares grow and grow. If it keeps up, they're going to be impossible to deal with."

Ren sat and absorbed this information for a minute. It certainly didn't bode well for his future as _yehktira_, that was for sure. He was just starting to reconsider his acceptance of the role when his Pokenav chimed loudly from his pocket. "Ah – is it alright if I answer this?" he asked guiltily.

Steven nodded. "Go ahead. It's probably important."

Ren couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but answered the call anyway. "Hello?"

"Good morning, Ren."

"Ah, Uncle Roger. How are you? How's the holiday going? You can't be done already."

"Well, actually . . . about that, ah, I kind of made a mistake with the bookings," Roger admitted bashfully.

"I see," Ren said, rolling his eyes.

"So, um, we had to check into a motel with a _very_ early check-out time. We're about to get on a train back to Slateport. Where are you at?"

"I'm still in Rustboro," Ren said. "Natasha's doing fine, by the way. She's a little quieter than usual, but she seems to be having fun. But never mind that – what sort of motel makes you check out at-" - he glanced at his watch - "seven o'clock in the morning?"

"A very, very cheap one," Roger said. "Listen, what are your plans for the rest of the day? Are you able to meet us back in Slateport, or will we have to come and pick Natasha up from there?"

"I'm not sure," Ren said. "Let me check." He covered the mouthpiece and addressed Steven. "Can I go home after this?"

"I don't see why not," Steven shrugged. "I don't have much more to tell you that you can't hear from Felicia or the others."

"Yeah, I can be there," Ren said. "Natasha and I'll catch the midday express, so we should be in at about one thirty, I think."

"All right, Ren. Thank you again for taking care of our little girl."

"It's not a problem, Uncle Roger," Ren said. "She's been good. All right, I'll see you this afternoon."

"Tally ho!" his uncle chuckled with slightly more enthusiasm than was strictly necessary before hanging up.

"What sort of secret conference room gets Pokenav reception?" Ren asked directly, raising an eyebrow at Steven. "I could have set this thing to record and broadcast our conversation live to anyone I wanted to."

"Good point," said Steven, frowning worriedly. "I really don't know what my father was thinking . . . but considering his company invented the things, I imagine he'd have some sort of coverage against them. Still, that doesn't matter. Do you have anything else you wanted to ask? I imagine you do."

"Actually . . . no," Ren decided. "I think the best thing to do would be to let the rest of it come as it comes. Besides, I don't have anything to ask you that I couldn't just bug Elly with later."

"You almost make it sound like you enjoy annoying her."

"I could get used to it," Ren said. "She reacts interestingly when you piss her off – which is remarkably easy to do."

A slight smirk twitched at the corner of Steven's mouth. "You're a canny one, Ren."

"I do my best. But I really should be going – I want to go and visit Roxanne at the Gym before we catch the train. Maybe we'll even have time for a battle."

"I suppose that's fair enough. Are you feeling restless from the lack of battling? It's only been three days."

"Yeah, but I've spent the last five years of my life battling several times a day. It feels weird to go for even a day or two without a good battle. I've hardly even let my Pokemon out, let alone used them."

"All right," Steven nodded. "Here's what we'll do. Go over to the Gym now – you might be able to catch Roxanne before the first challenger of the day appears. Then catch that express back to Slateport, and do whatever you like for a few days. You'll be going to the world of dreams every night, of course, so take it easy. On Thursday, there's a Pokemon Contest on in Mauville City that I think you might be interested in."

"A Contest?" Ren asked, frowning dismissively. "I don't really like Contests, so I'd rather not go. Unless . . ." he said slowly, catching the look in Steven's eye, "this is one of those publicity things you were talking about?"

"You're learning," Steven said, nodding. "The Champion is not just a representative of Pokemon battling – he needs to be an ambassador for all those who work with Pokemon. Showing up at a Contest or two will aid that image. And besides, it won't be all bad. Bella's going to be there, if I remember rightly."

"What, competing? I didn't know she was a Coordinator."

"No, she's not. She'll just be watching. I was going to go along with her, but I've got business to take care of. Think you can stand in for me?"

"Sure, I guess. So, Thursday in Mauville, huh? I can be there." Inwardly, Ren sighed. It didn't look like he was going to be able to spend that month at home with his mother after all. He'd just have to settle for being there as much as he could. He was determined to at least spend his birthday at home the following week.

"Thanks. I think Bella's quite fond of you, Ren."

"Wh-what?"

"Oh, don't look so frazzled," Steven chuckled. "You know what I mean. In any case, this works just fine. I suddenly have somewhere I need to be."

Ren hadn't even noticed that the ex-Champion had been checking his phone under the table. "What, at seven in the morning?"

"Yes," Steven said somewhat ruefully. "It seems that since I stepped down, I've suddenly become the most popular man alive. Strange how that works. Yet still, I must leave. Apparently, it's urgent." He stood and pushed his chair back, reaching out to shake Ren's hand.

Ren took it, slightly confused. "Um . . ."

"Best of luck, Champion," Steven said somberly. "I know you have inherited a heavy burden, but I think you can handle it. We may not have the opportunity to meet like this for a while – I get the feeling both of us are about to be even busier than we ever thought was possible. I'll put my old PR team at the League in touch with you, and they'll help you organise the Champion side of things. But of course, the _yehktira_ side . . . must be revealed to nobody, regardless of how much you trust them. All right?"

"I got it," Ren said. He did, strangely. He knew he should, by all rights, still be freaking out. It was entirely possible that he was just in shock, but he didn't think so. He saw things with a strange clarity that he had not experienced before. "I got it," he repeated, almost as much for his own benefit as it was for Steven's.

It had been true what he said, Ren reflected as he retrieved Natasha from Katrina Stone again. He did want to go and battle someone all of a sudden. The main reason, though, was that he wanted something else to take his mind off what had happened over just the last twenty-four hours.

"Are we going home now, Ren?" Natasha asked as they stepped out of the Devon Corporation building.

Ren shook his head. "Not yet, 'Tash. We're going to see Roxanne first."

"You mean your girlfriend?"

Ren sighed. There was no real point in arguing – he knew Natasha wouldn't listen – but at the same time he didn't really want to leave it open. "No, she's not my girlfriend," he said, hoping he could leave it at that. "Now, Steven said he'd call a car around . . . oh."

A large, now-familiar black car was parked right in front of them, the driver standing to attention beside the open door. "To the Rustboro Gym, Master Ren?" he asked with an indulgent smile.

"Ah . . . yes," Ren said, ushering Natasha into the car and putting one leg in after her. "Thank you."

"Of course, sir," the driver said, closing the door behind Ren. A few moments later, the engine purred into life and they pulled out into traffic.

"So, how did you get a Gym Leader to be your girlfriend?" Natasha asked. Ren sighed. This was going to be a long trip.


	10. War of Stone

**Chapter Ten**

_War of Stone  
><em>

Thankfully, the car arrived at the Rustboro Gym in record time, sliding into the carpark barely ten minutes after it had left Devon. Of course, this meant that Ren still had to endure ten minutes of teasing and awkward questions from his younger cousin. He was quite glad to step out of the car.

The driver offered to wait for them, but Ren demurred; the train station was only a block or two away. Once the car had left, Ren turned to face the Rustboro Gym and the memories came flooding back.

The building was fashioned after a large chunk of brown rock, with broken spires and chunks of stone pointing off in strange directions. It looked to be about two stories tall, though Ren knew that inside it was just one huge space. It sat on its own section, somewhat dwarfed by the heavy commercial buildings on either side but still managing to stand out and look quite imposing.

It had looked far scarier when he had first turned up three years ago. He had only had two badges then, and his Pokemon team had been much less experienced. The building had seemed to grow larger as he had walked towards it; so much so, in fact, that he had gotten dizzy looking up at it from in front of the door and needed to sit down.

He felt no such compulsion now as he strode towards the red double doors, feet crunching on the gravel. At his approach, the doors groaned open automatically, making him pause for a moment. They hadn't done that before. Nevertheless, Ren stepped inside, making sure that Natasha was with him before the doors closed.

Inside, Ren found himself in a familiar foyer. Surprisingly modern and chic compared to the rough outside of the Gym, it was spacious and comfortable, lit with soft uplights placed around the walls. A young man sat behind a desk at the back of the room, next to the door that led to the battlefield. He looked up as the doors closed behind Ren, and his eyes went wide. "Master Goodwin, sir! The new Champion!" he exclaimed, hurrying out from behind his deck to approach Ren. "Is that you?"

"I'm pretty sure it is," Ren said. "Is Roxanne around?"

"Not yet, but she's due any minute to do the standard daily checks before she goes off to teach her class."

Ren frowned. "Isn't it Sunday?"

"Yes, but she is handling a weekend class of older students. The class doesn't begin until nine thirty, though, so you should have time for . . . er. What is it you're here for, anyway?"

"I'd like a battle," Ren grinned. "Is that allowed?"

"I . . . think so. There's nothing in the rules about it," Roxanne's secretary muttered anxiously, shuffling quickly over to his desk and digging through a stack of important-looking papers with all the care one would have afforded a pile of dead leaves. "I guess you'd have to ask Miss Roxanne when she arrives," he said. "It is, after all, ultimately up to her whether she wants to battle."

"Of course," Ren agreed. "I'll wait. But in the meantime, do you have some water? I'm parched."

"Ah, of course, sir," the secretary said awkwardly. "I'll just, uh, go and find some." He backed out of the room through a side door, nodding his head in Ren's direction.

Ren sighed and flopped down onto one of a row of red plastic chairs that had been lined up against the wall, patting the one next to him. "C'mon, 'Tash. Sit down for a few minutes."

"This is fun, Ren! Are you gonna battle your girlfriend now?"

Ren sighed again. "I already told you, she's not my girlfriend."

"Won't she get mad and break up with you if you beat her?" Natasha asked, ignoring what Ren had said.

"That's not an issue because she's _not my girlfriend_," Ren said through gritted teeth.

"Sure," Natasha smirked.

Ren felt she was going to say something else, but he was spared by the front door of the Gym grinding open again. He stood up quickly. "Roxanne?"

The Gym Leader blinked in confusion. "R-Ren?"

"Hey," he said, suddenly devoid of words for some reason.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why else does a Trainer come to a Gym?" he asked. "Got time for a battle?"

"I – yes. Yes, of course," Roxanne smiled. "Just, um . . . give me five minutes, would you? I have to check on my Pokemon."

"Of course," Ren said, sitting down again as Roxanne hurried towards the door her secretary had gone through just moments before.

"She's totally into you," Natasha advised him, nodding sagely.

"Oh, give it a rest. She's, like, two years older than me or something anyway."

"That doesn't mean anything these days," Natasha said dismissively.

"What sort of TV programs have you been watching?" Ren asked in disgust, poking her in the ribs. "You haven't been watching the gossip channel again, have you?"

Natasha squeaked and wriggled away from his finger. "No, I haven't! But come on, you big dummy. I can tell she likes you."

"That's not true," Ren said. "Could you please not talk about it, anyway? Especially in front of her?"

"Ooh, what's that? Ren doesn't want to be embarrassed in front of his girlfriend?" Natasha giggled.

Ren stared at her for a moment. "You know, you're a lot different to how you used to be," he said. "You're still completely mad, but you've grown up a bit."

"I try," she said. "You've can't call me mad, though, Mr. Run-away-from-home-to-be-a-Trainer!"

"I didn't run away from home!" Ren protested.

"You might as well have," Natasha sulked. "You just left all of a sudden. I thought you were coming back!"

"I did! I'm back now, aren't I?"

"Sort of. But it took you five years. I was lonely."

Ren didn't really know quite what to say to that, so he fell silent and watched a clock on the opposite wall, listening to its soft ticking while he thought about what his cousin had said.

It was true, of course, that he had left very suddenly. It had been less than a week after his tenth birthday when he had packed up his things and set out. He hadn't wasted any time, that was for sure. He hadn't wanted to. Sometimes, he had decided, things just had to be done, and for him, that was . . . of course. _Champion_.

And now he'd done it. He imagined that he would be able to spend some more time at home, of course, but . . . it wouldn't be nearly as much as he would like. It was strange, really. He had set out just short of five years ago, full of the desire for adventure, but now . . . now, somehow, all he really wanted was to stay at home.

No. That wasn't what he'd come here for today, he reminded himself. He was here to battle. Hopefully it would clear his head a little, but even if it didn't, it would be good to stretch his battling muscles again. The last battle he had participated in had been the deciding battle at the Pokemon League. It had only been three days ago, but he hadn't gone so long without a battle for years.

At length, Roxanne reappeared. "All right, I'm done. Come through to the battlefield."

Ren rose silently, following her through the large door and down a spacious hallway. As he walked, the walls turned to stone, growing rougher and rougher as they did so. Ren smiled slightly. When he had first arrived here to challenge Roxanne for the Stone Badge, this hallway had been almost as intimidating as the facade of the building itself. Now, it was . . . just another hallway.

Another set of double doors opened at the end of the passage, letting light spill through into the dimly-lit corridor. Roxanne paused in the doorway and turned slightly towards him, a half-smile visible on her face. "Welcome to the Rustboro Gym, challenger," she said, before turning back and stepping onto the battlefield.

A grin starting to form on his own face, Ren followed her through, automatically making a beeline for the challenger's box at the near end of the battlefield. The field itself looked much the same as he remembered. A white rectangle, painted on the ground, filled with rocks and coarse dirt. Another line bisected it neatly, with a large circle sitting right in the middle. To either side, empty stands rose over a full storey high, row after row of yellow seats stretching towards the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eyes, Ren noticed Natasha tiptoeing into the battlefield behind them and securing herself a front-row seat.

Roxanne took up her position at the opposite end of the battlefield. "This takes me back," she said. "Ever since that day, I've been looking forward to having you in my Gym again. It took you three years, but you made it back eventually."

"I came as quickly as I could," Ren said, drawing a smile from Roxanne.

"We don't have much time now, though," she said. "It'll have to be a one on one match. Does that sound all right?"

"Sure," Ren said, digging through his backpack for a Poke Ball.

"Blind choice," Roxanne said, drawing a Poke Ball from her pocket and showing it to him. "Both Trainers must choose their Pokemon before either is released. All right?"

"That sounds fair," Ren agreed, making his choice and dropping the bag behind him. "Just out of interest . . . what happens if I lose? Not that I plan to, or anything."

"It's not an official challenge," Roxanne reassured him. "Nothing happens. But to be perfectly honest, I only expect this battle to go one way. It was three whole years ago when we last battled, and you did very well even then. I can tell your team has gone from strength to strength since."

"Fair enough," Ren said, thumbing the release switch. In a flash of red light, his oldest partner materialised before him. "I choose Zangoose, then." The bipedal Pokemon flexed its lethal black claws experimentally, clearly glad to have been released. Its fur was a glossy white, save for a diagonal slash of orange across its belly and a matching one across its face that gave it a somewhat demonic appearance. Its hands were a deep orange colour up to the wrists, and its fierce red eyes glared down the battlefield at Roxanne, awaiting the appearance of her Pokemon.

"Hm! A poor choice, Ren," Roxanne chastised him. "You didn't forget that my Gym specialises in Rock-types, did you?"

"You didn't think I was that stupid, did you?" Ren countered with a smile. His heartbeat was already starting to speed up again. This was it. This was what he lived for. "Zangoose might have the type disadvantage, but I think we'll manage."

"All right, suit yourself. Then I'll choose Golem!" With a _crack_, Roxanne's Poke Ball exploded into a shower of red light that quickly coalesced into a huge, ball-shaped Pokemon with short, stubby limbs and skin made of large, thick plates of rock. A small, lizardlike head glowered out from a gap in the armour as it growled loudly in its guttural voice.

Zangoose's ears pricked up at the appearance of its opponent, and it hissed its challenge, fur bristling.

"Easy," Ren murmured. Even after such a long time, the Pokemon still retained its volatile personality.

"Would you rather we had a referee?" Roxanne asked. "Jeremy usually does it, but he's disappeared somewhere this morning."

"Oh, the guy at the front desk? Yeah, he went off to get a glass of water, but I haven't seen him since. He's probably busy, though. No, that's fine. We don't need a referee."

"All right, then," Roxanne nodded. "Then as the challenger, you should take the first move."

"No," Ren said. "Ladies first, I insist. And besides . . . even though I'm the challenger, I'm the higher-ranked Trainer. You take the first move."

"I don't think that's-" Roxanne began to protest, but Ren cut her off with a raised eyebrow. "All right," she sighed. "You're so stubborn."

"And you're not?"

"No, I'm- oh, forget it," she harrumphed. "Golem, go! Get started with an Earthquake."

Taken by surprise, Ren watched as the bulky Pokemon leapt into the air to come crashing down on the ground, sending shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, tearing up chunks of rock and earth that danced up and down like mad demons. "Jump!" Ren shouted.

Zangoose's powerful leg muscles tensed, and the Pokemon went flying upwards, a streak of white lightning. By the time it landed back on the ground, the shockwaves had ceased.

"One more!" Roxanne commanded. Golem roared and leapt again, its bulky limbs smashing down onto the ground and shaking the arena.

Ren hissed a quick breath in through his teeth. "Jump one more time, and forwards! We can't win this from a distance!"

With a determined yowl, Zangoose threw itself forwards, leaping over the shockwaves that rushed across the ground. It landed right in front of Golem, taking the other Pokemon aback and causing it to step backwards. "Crush Claw!" Ren yelled. Zangoose drew back its massive claws and then swung them forwards towards the Rock-type's head, the air whistling as they flew.

"Defense Curl!" Roxanne countered. Golem's head withdrew into its protective shell, and it braced its stubby legs against the ground. Zangoose's claws skated ineffectually off its rough, rocky shell, and Ren's Pokemon hissed in anger as it backed up slightly, eyeing Golem warily.

"Keep your distance," Ren warned as he watched for Roxanne's next move. "We don't know what they're up to." Zangoose ignored him, circling Golem closely, swiping and feinting at chinks in its armour.

"Perhaps you ought to train your Pokemon to follow orders a bit better, Ren?" Roxanne suggested with a razor-edged smile. "Golem! Bulldoze!"

"Shi- Zangoose! Get out of there!" Ren shouted. Zangoose started to dodge backwards, but it was too late. Golem roared and rolled forward at frightening speed, drawing its arms and legs back into its shell and disappearing into a blur of brown that rocketed towards Zangoose, smashing into it at high speed and threatening to crush it into the ground.

With a furious yowl, Zangoose threw itself out of the way. It had still borne the brunt of the attack, but it managed to avoid being steamrollered by the immense weight of the Rock-type Pokemon. Zangoose dragged itself back to its feet as Golem made a turn and came back for another pass.

"Golem! Make it a Rollout!" Roxanne commanded.

Ren gritted his teeth as the massive Pokemon's rotation speed increased, causing it to dig a furrow in the ground as it tore around the arena at a blistering speed before banking sharply and barrelling straight at Zangoose.

"Jump!" Ren cried. Zangoose bent its knees to leap again, but it hesitated, fumbling to find its balance, and in the split second it took to find it again, Golem struck, a massive brown blur that sent Zangoose flying. "What?" Ren exclaimed. "Zangoose, what's wrong with you? You're faster than that, aren't you?"

Zangoose hissed irritably as it pulled itself to its feet again, glaring warily at the still-rolling Golem with unbridled hatred in its eyes.

"I thought you'd have done your homework, Ren!" Roxanne called from the other end of the battlefield. "Bulldoze is a marvellous move, really. Not only does it steamroll your opponent, but it hits them so hard that it rattles their perception, making them less agile and slowing their reactions."

"What? I've never heard of that move before!"

"Well, a fine Champion you'll make," Roxanne remarked wryly. "You're going to have to think fast if you want to keep your pride intact. Now, Golem! One more Rollout, and make it count!"

Ren coughed as Golem's thunderous rolling, seeming to grow more powerful with every passing second, threw up a cloud of dust. "Zangoose!" he choked out. "Don't dodge it! Meet it head on with Brick Break!"

"What?" Roxanne exclaimed. "Golem, watch out!"

Ren grinned as he felt the floor shake from the collision of the two Pokemon. "Too late."

The dust slowly settled to the ground, revealing the battlefield. Golem had stopped dead in its tracks – or more accurately, it had _been_ stopped. Zangoose stood proud against it, massive claws held to the other Pokemon's head.

"Golem!" Roxanne cried.

"Oh, don't worry," Ren said. "He won't fall from just that. I'm sure of it. But still . . . I hardly think you're one to be talking about not doing your homework, Roxanne." He laughed triumphantly, feeling the thrill of battle rush through him.

"What? I . . . I knew Zangoose could learn Brick Break. I just didn't think . . ."

"You didn't consider it a possibility, did you?" Ren arched an eyebrow. "That's the problem. When you go into a battle, you need to make sure to consider every possibility. That's the only way I managed to win my way through the League. Every option, no matter how remote the possibility, needs to be assessed. I'll admit I was taken aback by that new move, but that ends now!" He slashed his hand through the air to emphasise his point, feeling his confidence building once more. "Come on, Roxanne. The real battle begins here!"

* * *

><p><em>AN: Woot, battle time finally. (This is for those clamouring for more Pokemon involvement.) In hindsight, it's a pretty terrible battle, but I'm told it's effective. Still, in future, I am going to make sure that all of my battles are laid down in accordance with the formula I've developed recently with the help of a number of fantastic people on the Bulbagarden forums._


	11. The Fires of Battle

A/N: Gonna upload a couple of chapters here at once so I can get a bit closer to up-to-date. I've been neglecting you lovely people, and I'm sorry. :(

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

_Los Fuegos de Batalla_

Roxanne remained silent for several seconds, the remainder of Golem's dust cloud still settling around her as the two Pokemon remained frozen in the centre of the battlefield. "Good . . ." she said at last.

"Good? What's good?" Ren asked.

"It's good to see that you've still got that fire," Roxanne said with a smile. "Three years ago, you came to my Gym aflame with passion. You battled with unstoppable energy and drive, and that was how you won. When I saw you recently . . . you seemed to have lost some of that. I was hoping you'd come here to battle me so that I could make sure you hadn't."

"And had I?"

"No," Roxanne said with a shake of her head. "Not at all. If anything, you have more of it now. It's like you become a different person when you battle, but I can see . . . I can see that that's because you're doing what you love. Yesterday, you were a little quiet. Polite and cheerful, but you weren't showing that spark. You didn't show it until now, and I can understand why. I am, after all, a Pokemon Trainer like you. Even a couple of days without a battle can seem like forever, right?"

"Right," Ren agreed. "So, now that you've reassured yourself that I am actually me and not a doppelganger left by aliens, shall we finish this battle?"

"All right. Don't think I plan to go easy on you, though."

"I wouldn't ask for anything less."

"Golem! Seismic Toss!" Roxanne commanded. Golem moved faster than Ren would have thought possible, grasping Zangoose by the upper arms with a vice-like grip and leaping high into the air.

"Damn it," Ren muttered. He hadn't counted on Zangoose remaining at close quarters long enough for Golem to take a hold of it if Seismic Toss did come out of the bag, but he had allowed himself to be distracted. There was only one way out. "Aerial Ace! Go high!"

Roxanne's eyes widened. "What?"

Ren chuckled at the look on her face as Zangoose slipped free of Golem's grip in midair, darting upwards in a flash to leave its opponent tumbling towards the ground, its balance lost. "Now strike!" Ren yelled, feeling Zangoose's rage as it flipped agilely in midair and slashed down towards Golem at lightning speed.

The Pokemon collided at ground level with an impact that rocked the arena, trapping Golem between Zangoose and the unforgiving rock floor. "Good job, Zangoose! Now move out and keep an eye on that thing," Ren ordered.

"B-but how?" Roxanne stammered. "Why did Zangoose know a Flying-type move?"

"It's useful for dealing with Fighting-types, mostly," Ren said. "I got Zangoose to learn it in order to cover his biggest weakness. Still, it comes in handy in other situations, too."

"No matter," Roxanne said, though Ren could tell she was struggling to retain her composure. "It won't do much against my Rock-type, that's for sure."

"You're wrong there," Ren countered. "In more than one way, actually."

"What? But Flying moves are ineffective against Rock Pokemon! They always have been!" Roxanne protested.

Ren held up two fingers. "One, due to the timing of the attack, Aerial Ace carried all the power of your Golem's Seismic Toss as well as its own. Not to mention that it had gravity on its side, which is uncommon for such a move. And secondly . . . the true power of any attack lies not in the move itself, but in how you use it. You were not expecting Zangoose to know Aerial Ace, so it took you by surprise, and that was the truly damaging part. If you hadn't been thrown off balance so much, you would have had time to counter. But as my mom always used to say, time's a-wasting! Zangoose! Brick Break, one more time! And make it good!"

Zangoose sprang towards Golem again, its claws glowing white. Before Roxanne or Golem could make a move, Ren's Pokemon brought down its claws on the top of Golem's shell in a fearsome blow, driving the Rock-type back a pace.

"Bulldoze!" Roxanne cried.

"Don't give it time to do that again, Zangoose! Press your advantage with a Crush Claw attack!"

Hissing rabidly, Zangoose grasped one of Golem's arms with its powerful claws. Driving its left shoulder into its opponent's body, it heaved the massive Rock-type over its right shoulder, sending it crashing into the ground behind it.

"Golem!" Roxanne cried. "Are you all right? Can you get up?"

Golem rumbled faintly, bracing itself on one arm as it tried to stand, but its limb gave out and it collapsed back to the ground with a final, creaking groan.

"I think we're done," Ren said, stepping forward out of his box and hunkering down to scratch Zangoose's head. "Good job, my little brawler."

"Yes . . . well done. You fought valiantly, Golem," Roxanne congratulated her Pokemon, returning it to its Poke Ball. "I believe you win, Ren," she said. "Congratulations. I'd award you the Stone Badge, but I think you may already have one."

"If I win five times, do I get a free one?" Ren asked cheekily, pulling a potion from his bag to spray on Zangoose's wounds.

"No frequent flyer miles here, Ren," the Gym Leader smiled. "But still, that was a fantastic battle. It always makes me happy to have a battle like that, regardless of whether I win or lose."

"That's not what you said three years ago," Ren teased. "At the time, you were quite reluctant to give up the badge."

"I . . . that's not true, I – oh, never mind that now," Roxanne said irritably. "Anyway, I'm glad to have been able to battle you again. Though I must say . . . you seemed different this time. It's not just that fire I was talking about earlier – you still have that in spades. What I mean is that you seem more . . . sure of yourself."

"Well, I guess that's natural, isn't it?" Ren shrugged as he returned Zangoose to its Poke Ball. "I'm the Champion now, after all. Sure, I wouldn't be up myself enough to walk into an arena and _expect_ to win, but I guess I do feel a certain confidence."

"And all that stuff you were saying . . ." Roxanne said slowly as she made her way over to sit next to Natasha in the stands.

Puzzled, Ren followed her and sat down on Natasha's other side. "What stuff? I didn't say anything weird, did I?"

"Well, I don't know." Roxanne looked uncharacteristically unsure of herself. "It was almost as if your personality changed once the battle got started. I mean, not only were you suddenly completely confident, but you knew exactly what you were doing. It was just a short battle, but that was the impression I got. It's almost like you were . . . calculating everything."

"I was," said Ren simply. "It's something I discovered about a year ago or so. If you force yourself to think through every single possibility, your chances of winning practically skyrocket. If you can plan for every eventuality, you can beat anybody. The weird thing is, I can't apply that to anything but battling. Once I start a battle, I suddenly go into 'logic mode'. Everything sort of slows down, almost, and I start going through all the likely possibilities in my head. I've tried it with other things – maths, video games, and so on; all kinds of stuff – but I can't seem to make it work."

"That's . . . fascinating," Roxanne said, staring at him intently. Ren had a sudden, sinking feeling that she was about to- "Say, do you think you could come into my class this morning? Just, you know, to talk to the students about battling."

_Dammit. _Ren winced inwardly. For a moment, he considered refusing, but what excuse could he have made? His train didn't leave until noon, so he had plenty of time. _No_, he told himself firmly. _You shouldn't be trying to think of excuses anyway. It's like Steven said – you just have to suck it up. And besides, this could be good for you. Even if you don't want to do it, it'll help you get used to it. It's just a small group! You did _Hoenn Buzz_ yesterday – this should be nothing!_

"Ah . . . Ren? Earth to Ren?" Roxanne was peering at him worriedly.

"What? Oh! Right, of course. No, that'd be fine."

"More things we have to do?" Natasha complained half-heartedly.

"Nah, this should be fun," Ren said decisively, trying to convince himself almost as much as his cousin. He stood up and took a couple of steps towards the door before turning back towards the two girls. "Coming?"

"Stop trying to act cool," Natasha warned as she hopped down off her seat and walked past him. "It's not going to impress her."

Ren spun and followed her briskly, avoiding Roxanne's amused eyes as they left the arena. Natasha was being a little too frank for his liking. _And besides, it's ridiculous. She's wrong._

As it turned out, Roxanne's 'class' consisted of just two people, both of whom were waiting outside the Pokemon Academy when Ren, Roxanne and Natasha arrived. One was a tall, balding man in his late forties or early fifties, looking much like every corporate suit Ren had ever seen. He wore a shirt and tie and carried a briefcase, neither of which were particularly contradictory to that impression.

The other 'student' was a woman of about thirty, with straight, silvery-white hair that fell just past her shoulders, and a narrow, brown-skinned face with cool hazel eyes.

"Oh, are you two all that showed up?" Roxanne asked worriedly. "Where are the others?"

The woman shrugged, and the older man said, "I heard from Roger. His sister's getting married this weekend, so he couldn't make it and sends his apologies. I can't speak for the others, though."

"Well, all right!" Roxanne spoke with a cheerfulness that Ren sensed was a little forced. "They miss out on the treat I brought for you all today, then!"

"What am I, a chocolate brownie?" Ren grumbled.

Roxanne ignored his comment. "Ren, this is Marcus Price. He's one of the most influential businessmen in Rustboro City and a good friend of Mr. Stone."

"Nice to meet you," Ren said, hesitating slightly before offering his hand to Price.

"Likewise," Price said, clasping his hand with a curious look on his face. "Say, aren't you . . ."

"Ren Goodwin," Ren supplied. "Yes, that's me."

Price's face broke into a smile. "Good heavens, she's brought us the Champion."

Ren nodded awkwardly. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Of course, Ren is here as a personal favour to me," Roxanne put in quickly, "so we must do our best to make him feel welcome. Oh, Ren – this over here is Vila Kashyenka. She came from overseas to study at the Academy."

Vila bowed stiffly, her expression unreadable. "It is good to meet you," she said, her voice layered with a musical accent that Ren couldn't place. "You are the one whom they call Champion, are you not?"

"Um, yes. I am," Ren said, bowing back a little uncomfortably. It felt strange and foreign. He hadn't had to give such a formal greeting to anyone before, but he felt somewhat obligated in the face of the oddly polite Vila.

"Then you are the one whom I must defeat," she said flatly.

"Uh . . ."

"I came to the Hoenn region because I was told that there are many strong Trainers here. In my country, there are few who train Pokemon. To learn to do so, I knew I must travel to a place other than my home. If I am to become a strong Trainer, I must defeat you. Is that right?"

"Well, not exactly . . ." Ren said, scratching his head awkwardly. "There are lots of strong Trainers who aren't Champions, you see. You don't have to be a Champion to prove you're good."

"Perhaps not, yet still I feel I must defeat you," she said frankly. "Will you promise to battle me some day?"

"O-of course," Ren said shakily, not quite following her strange logic.

"Anyway, now that we're here, let's go inside!" Roxanne said brightly, clearly trying to regain control of the situation. Ren shivered slightly at the blank, emotionless look Vila was giving him. The woman was more than a little disturbing, but he supposed he shouldn't be judgemental.

"Inside. Right," Marcus Price agreed. "It's cold out here."

As Roxanne stepped past to open the door, Price sidled closer to Ren and muttered in his ear, "Don't let Vila get to you. She's like that with everyone."

"You know her?" Ren asked, equally quietly, watching Roxanne struggle with the key out of the corner of his eye.

"Not as such. She's actually a member of the Qirfan diplomatic corps. They're based in Saffron over in the Kanto region, of course, but I hear she's on leave specifically to attend the Academy here. She's taken it upon herself to be as standoffish as possible to everyone, without actually giving anybody reason to take offense."

"Sounds like an interesting woman," Ren whispered drily.

"Oh, certainly," Price chuckled. "But like I say, don't mind her. I have to say, though," he continued at a normal volume, "it's quite an honour to meet you."

"Is that so?" Ren said blankly, for want of something more intelligent to say. "So are you planning to be a Pokemon Trainer yourself, Mr Price?"

"Oh, it's Marcus. I insist. But in any case, you see, I plan on retiring soon. I'm not all that old, but I'm getting tired of the corporate world. And with my family all overseas, I figure I'm going to need something to do in order to pass the time. Trouble is, I'd never had time to train Pokemon when I was a youngster, so I have to start from scratch. It's a little embarrassing to go back to school and learn it from the most basic level, but there are a lot of people in my position. There are about eight people in the class most weekends, but I don't know where they all are today."

"That's all right. To be honest, I don't think I could have managed any larger of a group," Ren said weakly.

"Ah! Got it!" Roxanne exclaimed as the door swung open at last. "Come on in, all . . . three of you."

Obediently, Ren, Natasha and Marcus trooped in behind Vila and Roxanne, the latter of which was already in full schoolteacher mode.

"We'll have to adjust the lesson plan for today to accommodate our guest," she said as she led them down a long hallway, shoes clacking on the brown tiles. "As we're the only ones here today, the quad will be free, so we should use that. If Ren's all right with it, we'll have him assist me in the lesson."

"Ah . . . I'm not sure if I'm just behind or something, Roxanne, but . . . what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?" Ren asked, suddenly realising that the topic hadn't actually come up.

"I'm sure we'll think of something," Roxanne said airily as Ren caught up to her.

"You mean you hadn't already?" Ren asked in disbelief. "I was kind of under the impression you had something planned."

"Well, we can't all plan for every eventuality. My lesson plan for today didn't account for the remote possibility of the Champion appearing in class."

"You're gonna make fun of me for that forever, aren't you?" Ren asked with a sigh.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Roxanne said simply. "Here we are."

She had stopped before a door that looked little different to any other – painted that ubiquitous, sickly shade of beige that Ren had seen in every school he'd ever passed through, set with a pane of frosted glass that prevented anybody from seeing in or out. Ren had no idea why schools insisted on doing that. It wasn't as if they had anything in particular to hide.

This door, however, did not open onto a classroom. Instead, when Roxanne turned the doorknob, it revealed something quite unexpected. Ren had heard Roxanne say 'quad', so he had of course expected something outdoors, but what he saw was a little more than he had been expecting.

After passing through a short brick corridor, Ren found himself standing in an open area the size of a football field, a roughly rectangular quadrangle surrounded on all sides by the two-storey, brown-brick wall of the Pokemon Trainers' Academy. Trees lined the area, forming a miniature wall of forestry almost five metres thick. A neat cobbled path led through the layer of trees to the central part of the courtyard, a large, sunny expanse dotted with benches and tables. Spread between the assorted picnic paraphernalia lay three regulation Gym-sized Pokemon battlefields not unlike the one Ren and Roxanne had recently faced off across.

Ren noticed immediately that the battlefields had seen some use recently; there were furrows in the ground where the grass had not grown back yet and some of the vegetation had been wantonly trampled. Other than the battlefields, though, the courtyard could have been any park in Hoenn. The grass was perfectly manicured, and soft sounds of birdsong filtered through from the lush border of trees that hid much of the building's inelegant façade.

"Welcome to the Academy's outdoor training ground, Ren," Roxanne said as she led them towards the nearest battlefield. "The Academy, of course, possesses multiple battlefields of many different kinds, but these ones are favourites for many of the students."

"So how are we going to do this, then?" Ren asked, surveying the area critically. "Another battle as a demonstration?"

"Yes, I think that sounds like a good idea. But," Roxanne said archly, "I can think of a better opponent for you than me."

"Oh, really?" Ren glanced around. The five of them seemed to be the only ones present. "Who's that, then?"

With a slightly mischievous smile, Roxanne pointed. "Vila."

For the first time since Ren had met the woman, Vila's face showed emotion. Her eyes widened and her lips parted slightly. "Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yeah, are you?" Ren added, frowning. "That's kind of a mismatch, isn't it?"

"You're right, of course," Roxanne agreed. "That's why, rather than a straight-up battle, you'll participate in a contest."

"What . . . kind of contest?" Ren asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary for you," Roxanne said casually. "You'll just be fighting a battle like normal. As Vila doesn't have her Pokemon Trainer's license yet, she can borrow one of the Pokemon owned by the Academy." Roxanne produced a Poke Ball from somewhere and tossed it to the still flummoxed-looking Vila.

"So what is the catch?" Vila asked as she caught it, her eyes narrowed.

"There must be one," Ren agreed. "Otherwise there's nothing out of the ordinary about the battle."

"Of course," Roxanne said. "The victory conditions will differ for each Trainer. Ren, as the more experienced party, will have to knock out his opponent's Pokemon entirely to win. Vila, on the other hand, has only to land a hit on Ren's Pokemon in order to be declared the winner."

"What?" Ren exclaimed. Surprising even him, his mind began to tick into gear. Defeating an inexperienced opponent in a one-on-one battle would not be difficult, but if he had to do it without his Pokemon taking a single hit . . . The best bet would be to finish the match in a single blow. Given that Vila would be using a Pokemon owned by the Academy, it should be doable. Academy Pokemon were docile so as to be easier for rookie Trainers to handle, and were not overly powerful for the same reason. Of course, it would all come down to the type matchup . . .

"Ren?"

"Huh?" He blinked in sudden surprise. "What is it?"

Roxanne sighed. "I said, I'll be choosing your Pokemon too, just to ensure it's fair."

Ren winced slightly. "Err . . . do you have to?" That would remove any possible advantageous type matchup he might be able to create.

"I do." Roxanne seemed to be enjoying herself far too much, he noted with some irritation. "In any case, you'll be using your Manectric. I think that will level the playing field a little."

"In other words, you're setting me up against a Ground-type Pokemon. Am I right?"

"Maybe. In any case, you need to hurry up and get to the battlefield, Ren! Vila's waiting for you!"

It was true, Ren noticed with a start; Vila had already moved to take up her position at the far end of the nearest battlefield.

"Will you come, Champion?" she called, her face once again unreadable. "This promises to be . . . interesting."

"Hmph," Ren chuckled. "You sure know how to mess with a guy, don't you? Roxanne." Moving swiftly, he stepped into his box on the battlefield and dug Manectric's Poke Ball out from his backpack.

"Undoubtedly," Roxanne smiled. "But still, I'd like to see if you can do this. And because it's not technically a Pokemon battle, as such, it won't matter if you lose."

"What makes you think I might lose?" Ren asked, tapping the release switch on his Poke Ball with a practiced movement. With a familiar crackling noise and the unmistakeable smell of ozone, Manectric burst onto the field, its crested yellow head held proudly high.

Its lithe blue body stretching powerfully, Manectric gave an eager howl overlaid with a tumultuous rumble of thunder. Ren smiled. "You're ready to go, I see."

"He is not the only one!"

"Hm?" Ren glanced up to see Vila releasing a flash of red light from her own Poke Ball. With a squeak, it coalesced into a small, yellow, rat-like Pokemon with shiny black eyes that rolled up into a ball at the sight of its opponent.

"Sandshrew . . ." Vila said, with the air of somebody trying to figure out how to break down a wall with a toothpick.

"A Ground-type, just like I thought," Ren noted. "Still, it's not going to do you any good."

"Aren't we confident all of a sudden?" Natasha prodded.

"I can't afford not to be," Ren said. "A Champion can't be afraid of anything."


	12. My House Is

A/N: Now we can get onto the second part of this update. (If you missed 11, skip back now!) This also happens to be the first chapter of our second arc, Episode the First. (In case you missed it - or I forgot to add it in - the first arc was named Parodos.) Enjoy, folks.

**Arc 2 – Episode the First**

**Chapter Twelve**

_Mein Haus Ist . . ._

"First move goes to Vila," Roxanne said. "Battle begin!"

For a few seconds, Vila remained silent. Just as Ren was about to say something, however, she took a deep breath and spoke one word. "Dig."

With a sudden flurry of dirt and powerful digging paws, Sandshrew disappeared through the grass and into the earth below, leaving only a small mound of soil to show it had ever been there.

Rens' eyes flickered around the battlefield as he tried to work out what to do. Manectric was completely vulnerable when facing a Dig-using Pokemon like Sandshrew, but then again, he had faced similar opponents with Manectric before. "Run!" he commanded.

Manectric leapt into action immediately, knowing through long experience what was required. Accelerating sharply, it soon became nothing more than a blue and yellow blur, circling rapidly around the arena.

Ren waited patiently. _At that speed, Manectric shouldn't be vulnerable to Sandshrew's attack. But all it would take would be one glancing blow . . ._

Manectric continued to circle for a full ten seconds before anything happened. Suddenly, the ground erupted and Sandshrew shot upwards, narrowly missing Manectric, who had been forced to bank sharply to avoid the attack.

_Take advantage of the opening_, Ren said to himself as he saw Sandshrew flailing in midair, its missed attack having taken it far further from the ground than it had expected. "Ice Fang!" he said sharply.

Manectric turned on a dime and leapt to intercept the still-helpless Sandshrew. Spontaneous clouds of frost issuing from between its fangs, it clamped its teeth down on the small Pokemon and shook it furiously. "Easy!" Ren cautioned. He didn't want the other Pokemon to get too seriously hurt.

With a reproachful glance at its master, Manectric tossed the limp form of the Ground-type Pokemon aside. It tumbled across the grass and slid to a halt. It didn't get up.

"Sandshrew is . . . unable to battle," Roxanne said, sounding slightly more subdued than she had earlier. "Ren wins . . ." She seemed a little taken aback by the swift, ferocious battle.

"Return, Manectric," Ren said quietly, holding out its Poke Ball. With a final, slightly put-out growl, the Electric Pokemon dissolved into red light. "I hope that was educational?" Ren said mildly, glancing down the field at Vila.

His eyes widened as he saw the venomous glare with which the normally emotionless woman had fixed him. Fists clenched at her sides, Vila's face displayed such pure, unadulterated hatred that Ren almost took a step back.

"You . . ." she hissed, her voice wavering. "You bastard . . ."

Ren blinked, trying to work out where her rage was coming from. Sure, she had lost, but she couldn't seriously have been expecting to win, could she? "I'm . . . sorry?" he ventured, at a total loss for words.

"Do not give me 'sorry', you sad excuse for a man!" she spat as she stalked across the battlefield towards him, stepping over her unconscious Pokemon as if it wasn't even there. Ignoring the protesting Roxanne and the cowering Marcus, she jabbed Ren hard in the chest with her finger. "Do you hear me? I will defeat you!"

With that, she marched out of the courtyard, not looking back once.

"Did I . . . do something wrong?" Ren asked blankly, his head spinning.

"Well, ah . . ." Roxanne started, but tailed off uncomfortably, staring worriedly at the door through which Vila had just departed. "Class dismissed!" she snapped suddenly.

The class, by now consisting only of Marcus Price, headed uncertainly towards the door in Roxanne's wake. The Gym Leader slipped quickly through the door and disappeared from sight, leaving Ren and Natasha alone in the suddenly silent courtyard.

"That was . . . unusual . . ." Ren said quietly, the wind suddenly taken out of his sails. He had been all fired up just a minute earlier, yet after Vila's unexpected outburst, he found he had suddenly lost his will to battle.

"You're telling me!" Natasha snorted. "That woman's bad news, Ren."

Ren didn't say anything. Instead, he crossed to the nearest bench and sat down, resting his head in his hands and massaging his temples with his thumbs. He had won, followed the rules of the battle exactly as they had been set out . . . so why had Vila exploded like that? _It doesn't feel like I won that battle_, he realised. _Or at the very least . . . that the battle isn't over._

"'I will defeat you'," he murmured. Somehow, the words sent a shiver down his spine. Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, he stood up and stretched. With the issue of the world of dreams still weighing heavily on the back of his mind, he could not afford any extra distractions.

"Let's go home, 'Tash," he said with a sigh. "I've had just about enough excitement for one trip."

There was no sign of Roxanne, Vila or Marcus outside the Academy, but the car he had arrived in was still there. After being dropped off at the railway station, Ren left a message with the driver for Roxanne to apologise both for his sudden departure and for what had happened at the Academy.

Ren realised soon after entering the station that they were far too early for the midday express, so he found a small newsstand – at Natasha's request – and bought two books. Natasha happily withdrew into hers for a couple of hours, but Ren found himself unable to concentrate; letters kept floating off the page and rearranging themselves in front of his eyes, spelling out 'Vila' and 'Elly' and 'yekhtira', among other things. Perhaps the most disturbing of these was 'doom'. Whenever that particular jumble of letters appeared, Ren rubbed his eyes furiously and tried to banish the image, but it kept returning, unbidden, to dance tauntingly in front of him with what seemed to be a kind of malicious glee.

In the end, Ren stashed the book away in his backpack and kept himself occupied by counting columns on the far wall of the station. Every couple of minutes or so, a train would pass in front of him, causing him to lose count and start again. The cycle continued for almost an hour and a half before Ren realised how ridiculous he was being.

"Come on, Natasha," he said tiredly. "The express should be here any minute." With a sigh, he levered himself off the bench and headed for the platform. Anything, he decided, to distract himself from the multitude of complicated things running around his tired mind.

Sure enough, the express arrived at midday on the dot. After making sure that they both had tickets this time around, Ren ushered Natasha onto the train, feeling his inexplicable tiredness gradually intensifying. By the time he found his way to a seat, he was having trouble keeping his eyes open. _Why . . ._

With a final disgusted puff of air at his own apparent feebleness, Ren let his head rest on the uncomfortable back of the seat.

"I'll wake you up when we get there," he vaguely heard Natasha saying before he drifted out of consciousness.

_Afro Glameow looks kind of pissed. Ren raises his hands apologetically, but the furious feline does not seem to be at all mollified. Rather, it stalks towards him once again, tiny yet threatening fangs bared in a frustrated grimace. It's as if it knows that Ren's going to get away again._

_But he's not sure that he is. He looks around hopefully for any sign of a portal to the second ring, but there's no sign of anyone except him and the prowling Glameow, its ridiculous hairdo wobbling slightly as it tilts its head to regard him suspiciously._

_It's only now that Ren realises they're not in the candy maze anymore. Instead, they appear to be standing between two massive concrete columns. It's dark. Ren looks up, suddenly noticing a constant rumbling noise that may or may not have been there the whole time. The sky isn't visible – not directly above him, at least. Above him, all that's there is more concrete . . . or something. It's a bit hard to see. He's standing in a veritable forest of concrete columns, he realises, all reaching up towards the dark mass blotting out the sky. Some light leaks in from far to his left, and more from far to his right, but it's not enough to clearly see where he is. And the rumbling goes on._

_Taking the initiative, Ren turns and runs. It's a little cold. Afro Glameow is following, but at no great speed. Ren senses it could easily catch him if it wanted to. He ducks past another concrete pillar and just about trips over a massive roll of wire. Reacting at the last moment, he jumps over it, but catches his shin on a protruding spike of some sort. There's blood, but not much. No pain either, so he keeps running and decides to worry about it later. Afro Glameow is close, he can tell – even without looking back, it's apparent he is being toyed with._

_His only chance is the light, he decides. If there's no rescue forthcoming from Elly or the others, he'd rather be able to see properly when Afro Glameow catches up to him. What could be taking them so long?_

_His leg still doesn't hurt, but it feels like lead. It's slowing down his running. His chest feels tight. He glances down and just about trips over in shock. His leg is soaked with blood, and he's leaving a trail of red on the ground. Running is useless, he decides. There's nobody coming for him. Well, nobody save Afro Glameow, that is._

_A gust of cold wind moans through the area as he turns to sit on the ground, his injured yet painless leg dragging awkwardly. A scrap of yellowed newspaper skitters across the ground in front of him, and he automatically reaches for it._

_'CITY CEO RUNS FOR MAYOR' says the headline. The article itself is barely legible. Ren squints at it curiously._

INSERT ARTICLE

_Ren frowns, his befuddled, sleepy mind having trouble reading the message in front of him. Spread throughout the text are a handful of words in capitals._

"_'Ren' . . ." he reads aloud. "'Find the door . . . automatic message. Do not' . . . do not what?" he wonders aloud, but before he can scour the article again, Afro Glameow appears from behind a pillar, slowing as it sights its unmoving target. It pads lightly across the concrete towards Ren, weaving slightly as it comes. It looks a little tipsy._

"_Door . . . what door?" Ren wonders aloud. Oh, of course. The door to the second ring – if you could even call it a door. But how is he supposed to find that? Last time, Elly reached out and pulled him through it, but judging by the 'automatic message' part of the dispatch, there will be no help forthcoming this time._

_Afro Glameow hisses in annoyance as Ren pulls himself to his feet again. Just as soon as he regains his footing, however, his injured leg buckles beneath him, sending him tumbling back down to the ground again. Yet in that split second, Ren has seen his way out – or at least, what he hopes is his way out. A small patch of blackness, ever so slightly darker than the shadowy expanse of concrete. It's only about ten metres away, but by now Ren doesn't trust his leg to get him there._

_All he can do is crawl, so it's what he tries. Afro Glameow, strangely enough, doesn't move to attack him. It simply slinks along beside him like a bad smell that just won't go away. Perhaps, he reasons, it doesn't think he can go anywhere._

_He's moving even more slowly now. His leg is so much dead weight. One leg of his jeans is sodden with blood, and he can hear the horrible, wet dragging sound it makes as he tugs it onwards through force of will. Although he still can't feel any pain, his head is beginning to spin. Probably with loss of blood, he supposes. Not really a good thing._

_As he draws closer, Afro Glameow following him tauntingly, it becomes apparent that the patch of darkness is in fact a square hole of the kind he had passed through the last time. It's still too far away, though. Ren swears loudly and pushes himself up onto his knees, almost blacking out with the sudden rush of blood from his head. Unable to move, he sways on the spot for a few seconds before practically throwing himself towards the hole._

_He hits the concrete hard, and this time it does hurt. Pain lances through his face and upper body where it has become scratched and grazed. He lands awkwardly just a foot or so from the hole. All he has to do is reach out to it . . ._

_Too late, Afro Glameow realises that its prey is about to escape, and leaps forward with a yowl. Ren's fingertip brushes the dark square, and with a _fwip_, Afro Glameow and everything else vanish, all colour and light drawn out of the world and spiralling into a single point above his head that vanishes instantly._

The first thing Ren realised was that he was no longer bleeding. He was sore, for sure, but it soon became apparent that that was only because he was lying spread-eagled on the floor of the Devon Corporation's reception area. It only took him a few seconds to stand up and dust himself off, and a couple more to ensure that he had not sustained any grievous bodily harm.

"Well, I guess I made it," he said aloud, his voice echoing oddly in the open, empty space. The last time he had come through here, it had been awash with life and noise, but now it was as silent as a tomb. Ren shuddered involuntarily, remembering his narrow escape from Afro Glameow. _Why did nobody come for me?_ he wondered, not for the first time, as he scanned the room. He was obviously in the second ring now – the environment had been created from his recent memories, and there was no sign of life other than himself. The council had promised that somebody would come to meet him the next time he crossed over, but there wasn't a spirit to be seen.

Slightly nervous, Ren wondered what he was supposed to do next. The square hole that he had just passed through was still there, floating innocently about a metre off the ground, but he wasn't sure he could go back just yet. If there were any _Iehkti'na _hanging around – and it was quite possible there were, he imagined – they would follow him back through the first ring into his own world, and Arceus only knew what they'd get up to there.

Swallowing forcefully, he decided to at least find some means of defending himself in case he was attacked. Casting his eye around the reception area, nothing particularly jumped out at him, so he pushed through the immobile spinning door into Rustboro City.

Which promptly disappeared. Ren blinked, realising that the revolving door had in fact taken him to the battlefield of the Rustboro Gym. He was standing in Roxanne's place at the far end of the field, facing the door he had walked through just hours ago . . . or so it seemed. He had no sooner started to wonder what was going on, however, than the doors banged open and two dark shapes slipped out.

Ren swore as he recognised them. While smaller than the three that had confronted him and Elly the previous night, the _Iehkti'na_ were still bigger than he was. They were also less humanoid-looking than those he had seen, with hunched backs and elongated heads that probed towards him curiously, seeming to sniff the rapidly cooling air. He cast around for a weapon, but there was nothing in the arena that he could possibly use. With no time to do anything else, he made a dash for a door he had glimpsed on the wall to his left. His hand grasped the handle and the Gym disappeared. Struggling against a sudden, overbearing pressure, Ren forced the door open and fell through, into . . . what? A storage cupboard? A passageway?

His bedroom. That was odd. Ren blinked. The air was warm again, and a cloud of dust motes, stirred up by his sudden entry, swirled in the air. Somewhere, a Wingull squawked irately. _Am I . . . safe?_ Ren wondered, shutting his bedroom door behind him and looking around. There was no sign of pursuit. Perhaps they had been lost with the Gym. Ren pressed his ear to the door and listened, but there was no sound. Suddenly realising how heavily he was breathing, he sat down on the bed with a _fwump_, startling further dust motes into flight. They drifted in and out of the rays of sunlight slashing through the window, muted, dancing explosions of golden light.

Letting his breathing slow, Ren slumped back onto his bed, legs dangling across the floor. _Fantastic_. Hadn't Elly said there would be someone here to meet him? He had managed to find his way from the first ring into the second safely enough, but he didn't suppose he would have the same luck getting into the third ring. And simply returning to the first ring wasn't an option any more now that he knew there were _Iehkti'na_ on the prowl. Of course, to do that, he'd have to know where the portal back to the first ring was. His only option, as much as he disliked to admit it, was to wait around until one of the spirits appeared. Fighting was a possibility, but not an attractive one. Ren didn't fancy his chances, especially unarmed.

Praying to every obscure deity he had ever heard of that he would be safe where he was for the time being, Ren crossed to the window. Outside, the ocean glistened serenely, stretching all the way across to the barely visible southwestern peninsula of the Hoenn region, which was nothing more than a greenish smudge on the horizon. Somewhere over there was Rustboro, where Steven was probably mired in paperwork associated with his newfound responsibility; where Roxanne might be teaching a class. That was where it had all started, and now he was back at home as if nothing had happened. He cracked open the window absently, feeling a cool breath of salty air brush his face like a feather.

A Wingull swooped past the window, something small and wriggling held in its beak. That in itself was not especially abnormal, but something struck Ren as strange nonetheless. He watched with some interest as the Wingull corkscrewed upwards, banking and twitching its wings to ride an updraft. It was not until it was out of sight completely that Ren realised it had been flying upside down.

The sea was a light shade of lilac. Why had he not noticed that before? It hadn't changed while he was looking at it, but he could have sworn that just seconds before it had been its usual greenish blue. Ren blinked, half-expecting to see the sea return to its normal colour.

Instead, it was a deep, impenetrable black, and rising up to meet him. Ren stepped back involuntarily as the tide reared up, up, far higher than it should have been able to reach. It climbed level with his window and kept going, a massive, solid wall of blackness. It intercepted the rays of the morning sun, and the room was plunged into shadow. Ren shivered uncontrollably as the temperature dropped, despite the sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Then the wave dropped. Watching the enormous mass sink towards his house at frightening speed, Ren was paralysed. He wanted to move, to run, but some kind of morbid fascination kept him rooted to the spot, watching the blackness rush straight for his bedroom window. As it neared, it seemed to condense and shrink, becoming more and more solid and opaque – a transformation difficult to pin down with the eye, but somehow clear enough to be noticed regardless.

The sound of the window shattering was ridiculously loud after the heat-draining silence of the last few seconds, spurring Ren into action. Desperately, he threw himself backwards as the deep clot of darkness flowed into the room in amidst a shower of glass shards. He felt small spikes of pain erupt all over his body as glass flew everywhere, but tried to concentrate on getting away.

By now a gelatinous blob about the size of a large beanbag, the mass of blackness fell to the floor and split into two smaller pieces. As Ren backed towards the door, trying not to step on any more glass, each of the two seemed to shift and elongate, rising over Ren's head and solidifying into vaguely humanoid shapes – the two _Iehkti'na_ that had appeared in Roxanne's Gym. Their appearance spurred Ren into action, and he made a leap for the door, expecting it to take him somewhere else – hopefully, somewhere that he would be safe for a little longer.

There was no such luck. As soon as Ren's hand closed on the doorknob, there was a lurching sensation in the pit of his stomach and the world seemed to dissolve slightly, becoming blurry and indistinct, before abruptly sharpening again. Without the liberty to wonder what the sudden nausea bubbling in his stomach signified, Ren yanked the door open and charged through, hearing the susurrous hissing of the _Iehkti'na_ rapidly approaching behind him.

What Ren saw almost made him stop dead, which would certainly have been fatal. As it was, he collapsed forward out of his door and fell onto the ceiling; the rest of his house, it seemed, had turned entirely upside-down. Tripping over a light fitting that normally lit the way to his bedroom, Ren made his way along the hallway, stumbling along the ceiling rather than the floor.

When he reached the stairs, however, a new problem presented itself: the stair vault in Ren's house had been designed to be big and airy, and as a result, the ceiling did not slope down with the staircase. With the carpeted stairs climbing above him upside-down to the ground floor, Ren glanced behind him. The _Iehkti'na_ had followed him out of his bedroom, and were closing on him quickly.

Hoping he wouldn't regret it, Ren reached up – or was it down? – to the banister that ran alongside the stairs. Somehow, he managed to pull himself up onto the railing, half-crouching with his feet between the bars that now stretched upwards from the handrail to the stair-shaped ceiling. The handrail, when right side up, didn't quite come up to Ren's chest. As a result, he found he couldn't straighten up fully on his makeshift, sideways ladder.

Awkwardly, Ren loosed his right foot from its perch and swung it further up, hooking it into the banister and pulling himself upwards. The distance he had gained seemed minimal, and the _Iehkti'na_ almost caught him. Ren, galvanised into action, started to climb in earnest as a shadowy, claw-like appendage slashed through the banister millimetres from his feet, shearing through the ancient polished oak as if it were paper.

Once out of the beasts' reach, Ren secured himself a foothold and risked a glance back down. The two nightmares – was it easier just to call them that? – were glaring at him without eyes, pacing back and forward on the ceiling. They seemed flummoxed as to how to reach him, and he took some small comfort from that. Still, he knew he was in danger as long as he remained near them, so he kept climbing, making sure not to slip.

The top – or rather, the bottom; Ren was beginning to get dizzy – of the stairs came fairly quickly, it seemed. Ren carefully hoisted himself off the banister and edged himself around a corner, which placed him safely on the kitchen ceiling, but still within arm's reach of a terrifying drop. He hadn't realised quite how much of a death trap his own house was.

Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Ren looked around. There, seemingly glued to the floor a metre or so above his head, was the kitchen table where he had briefly spoken with his mother just the previous day. That warm, sluggish Saturday morning suddenly felt like it had been years ago.

Standing up, Ren cautiously took hold of the edges of the heavy wooden table and pulled downwards. It lifted slightly towards him, and his arms protested at the strain, as if he was lifting it up instead of down. Ren swore and dropped it, and it fell back up with a clatter. It seemed that gravity was working normally for everything except him and – thankfully – thenightmares that were, he hoped, still prowling around on the first floor.

Wondering what to do next, Ren stood and crossed to the front door, absently looking through the glass pane set into it, which had remained at roughly his eye level. Outside, the world looked much the same as it usually did, save for the fact that it was upside-down. A little scared of what might happen, Ren stretched a hand up towards the handle, which was well within his reach.

_Sometimes you have to make choices that determine the future at the drop of a hat_. Ren swallowed and grasped the handle, and the world disappeared.


	13. The Blackest Night

**Chapter Thirteen**

_Die Schwärzeste Nacht_

Everything was black. Nothing was solid. Ren wasn't even sure if he was standing on anything, but at the very least, his house had disappeared. Even the handle on the front door had blinked out of existence the instant he touched it, leaving his hand to close, almost interrupted, on empty space.

Well, calling it 'empty' implied that there might be something there at some point, Ren reasoned. And that seemed unlikely, seeing that he was now floating in a vacuum. Or . . . was he? He was standing upright, that was for sure. That had to count for something, right? Tentatively, he lifted his right foot off the ground that might not have been there after all and put it down in front of him.

But he couldn't. His foot kept falling, his body following it, yet his left foot did not move. Although there was no sensation of spinning, nothing to measure his progress against, Ren supposed he was now cartwheeling through the void, probably looking very silly to anybody who might be watching him.

That thought brought him up short. Where were the _Iehkti'na_ now? They could be anywhere in this blank, featureless expanse. How was he supposed to see them if he couldn't even see himself?

_I need light_, he thought, and somehow, from somewhere, there was light. There wasn't much; just enough that he could see indistinct shadows wobbling in front of him when he waved his hands before his face. He couldn't even tell where the light was coming from, if it even had a source – if, indeed, it was even a light to begin with. _It might be more accurate_, he pondered, _to call it a darkness that's slightly less dark than the previous darkness_. Immediately following this thought, he dismissed it as fanciful nonsense. Dark was dark, and light was light. _Idiot._

Immediately following _this_ thought, Ren chastised himself thoroughly for talking to himself like some kind of madman.

"So, where to go now?" he asked aloud, more to reassure himself through the sound of his own voice than anything else.

"With me," rasped a deep voice from somewhere above Ren's shoulder.

Ren jumped – or rather, he would have if he had been sure of where the ground was. "Arceus! Who the hell are you?"

There was a sound of clicking fingers, and Ren suddenly felt heat and warm orange light erupt inches from his left arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as the sudden brightness overloaded them.

When he risked cracking his eyes open a few seconds later, Ren was able to see somewhat. He was standing on an empty, dusty plain that stretched beyond the limits of the light emitted by . . . Ren squeezed his eyes shut again and rubbed them to make sure he was seeing properly.

A man was standing in front of him, cupping a warm orange ball of roiling flames in his left hand. The man was huge, easily two feet taller than Ren, and broad; his trunk was wider than Ren was at the shoulders. It was hard to tell much else, though, because he was wearing a long, brown coat that hung almost to the ground, tightly wrapped around his entire body, obscuring it from view. A pair of worn, cracked black boots poked out from underneath it. His face . . .

Ren peered under the hood, the brown folds of which fell softly around the man's head. Somehow, though, no face was visible. Darkness, though banished from every other crevice nearby by the incandescent flames in his hand, stayed put under the hood, seeming to shift and weave back and forwards as if it were alive. "It's magic," the man croaked, as if reading Ren's mind. His voice sounded as if it had been dragged backwards across a particularly shredded piece of sandpaper.

"Who . . . who are you?" Ren asked. Was this the spirit he had been promised would appear? He certainly hoped so, but in this strange realm of upside-down houses and endless shadows, the hooded man could be anybody. He might even be an _Iehkti'na_ in disguise.

"Maho," the man said, his voice still rasping in a manner that sounded unnatural and somewhat painful. He then turned and started to walk away as if that had been all the explanation that was necessary, taking his circle of flickering light with him.

Ren hesitated for a moment before following him. Of course, he knew there was no way he could trust this stranger, but it didn't really look like he had a choice. Maho – was that his name? – would certainly have been able to kill him several times already if that had been his intention, although this gave Ren no great comfort as he hurried cautiously after the big man and his ball of fire.

Ren fell into step beside Maho, noticing that although his companion was striding far faster than Ren, he had a pronounced limp that made his body rock to one side every time he took a step. His arms, too, were oddly stiff, as if he had trouble moving them.

"Will you tell me where we're going, at least?" Ren tried, almost stumbling over his own feet in his effort to keep up.

"_Iehkti'na_," Maho grunted from beneath his hood. His head turned sharply one way and the other, and quite suddenly, he changed direction, striding off at almost a right angle.

There was a sudden loud hissing noise from behind Ren, and he ducked instinctively as something scythed out of the darkness behind him, aimed directly at his neck. It passed over his head narrowly, but before he could straighten up to fight – or run, which was more likely – a great gout of white-hot flame poured through the space where his head had been just a split second ago. Ren felt himself break into a sweat as the immense heat passed within inches of his back and slammed into the beast which had crept up behind him.

Ren turned to watch in morbid fascination as the _Iehkti'na_ was utterly consumed by the fire. Instantly, it seemed to melt back into a liquid form, a horrible, vinegar-like smell filling the air as its whispered screams penetrated Ren's ears. He shuddered and tried to look away, but there was no way he could. The nightmare screamed and screamed, its voice never rising above a hiss, until its limbs and body had completely melted. The resulting puddle of what looked like black tar, glimmering sickeningly in the firelight, offered no immediate indication of the horror it had been just moments earlier.

He turned to glance at Maho, who was standing impassively a few metres off. He nodded in satisfaction, causing Ren to again notice the jerky awkwardness of his movements. He then turned and walked off again, clearly expecting Ren to follow. Ren didn't move for a full ten seconds, simply watching the retreating back of the man who had just utterly annihilated a nightmare in less time than it took him to draw breath. He shuddered involuntarily. The man frightened him.

_I guess I have no choice other than to follow him, though_, Ren reasoned. _He has shown that he's on my side, at least . . ._

He had barely caught up to the magic user, however, when Maho stopped dead. He lifted his right hand – the one not still providing light – high in the air. Ren, suddenly recognising what was about to happen, jumped backwards and – remembering something a science teacher had once told him – unclenched his jaw. He had worked out by now that covering his ears would do nothing, but that didn't mean he wanted any of his teeth to shatter. The shockwave last time had given him a brief, passing toothache – nothing crippling, but unpleasant enough for him to not want to repeat the experience.

Sure enough, Maho brought his hand slashing down, tearing a hole in the space in which they stood. Beyond was the void. Ren stepped forward, expecting Maho to either push him through or pull him, but instead, the faceless man grasped Ren by the collar and tossed him bodily off to one side.

Ren hit the ground with an indignant 'ow!', but Maho was swiftly upon him, lifting a finger to where his mouth should be in a gesture of silence. That was the last Ren saw for the moment, for immediately the light in Maho's hand was extinguished.

Ren waited, holding his breath. The only light in the universe at that moment was the weak white glow that emanated from the portal a metre or two away, barely enough to make out its border. Ren's mind spun. What was Maho doing?

There was a sense of sudden movement across Ren's vision, followed almost immediately by a crackling blast of blue lightning that lanced out from a point just inches from Ren's cheek. A familiar sizzling feeling raised the hairs on his neck, and he shivered slightly as he saw the immensely powerful bolt of electricity wrap itself around a dark, writhing shape on the ground in front of the portal.

Once again, Ren found himself watching, enthralled, as the nightmare disintegrated, this time burnt blacker than black with a continuous, thick stream of lightning that cocooned it and consumed it utterly. Maho kept up his attack for a good ten seconds before allowing the last traces of electricity to dissipate, plunging them back into darkness.

"Hmph," Maho grunted dismissively as he conjured up another ball of fire and strode over to poke the charred carcass of the nightmare with the toe of his boot. At his touch, it crumbled to ash with a horrible creaking sound, filling Ren's nostrils with a pungent, unpleasant odour. "No more."

"Are you sure?" Ren asked, glancing around nervously. Sure, he had only seen two of the beasts, but there was always the possibility of more lurking, unseen, in the vast shadows.

Maho gave him what may very well have been a look of scorn before turning and vanishing into the portal he had torn open, taking his light with him.

Ren blinked. "Guess I'll take that as a 'yes'," he muttered, stepping around the pile of ashes that had not long ago been a _Iehkti'na_. It seemed that it had been drawn by the faint light of the portal, he guessed as he took a deep breath, preparing to follow the strange magician through.

_It's kind of funny_, he thought as he felt himself sucked through into empty space once again. _One minute a living creature, the next a pile of ashes or a puddle of oil. Is it really all right to kill them like this?_

He didn't have time to answer his own question, for barely three seconds after he had steppd into the portal, he found himself once again stepping out into a familiar grassy field. About fifty metres away stood the forest, still dark and imposing, but a little less threatening. Maho stood between him and the trees, looking over Ren's head at something in the distance. As Ren felt the portal blink out of existence behind him, Maho jerked his head in the direction of the woods. "Hurry," he said briefly, before turning and limping towards the trees. "Stay quiet."

Before Ren followed him, he turned to glance backwards at what Maho had been looking at. A threatening-looking thundercloud stretched across the horizon, disappearing beyond his vision in both directions. It was huge; at that distance, it must have been miles high. Quickly, Ren turned to run after Maho, heart thumping suddenly. Something was wrong in the third ring, and he didn't want to find out what it was. At least, not alone.

As Ren passed under the leafy canopies of the first trees, there was a distant rumble of thunder.

Ren was about to ask Maho what the long black cloud meant when he remembered that he wasn't allowed to speak. He would have to remember to ask about that rule at some point. It seemed that the area between the edge of the forest and the barrier around the spirits' village was an enforced 'silent zone', though for what purpose, he could not tell.

Ren fared no better in his trek through the inky black woods than he had on his previous trek; in fact, it seemed to him that he tripped over at least twice as often as he had with Elly. He wished Maho would conjure up his little ball of fire again, but then he remembered that Elly had made him walk without a light source as well. _Maybe light is in the same category as talking in this forest._

Eventually, however, light began to filter through the trees again, and the going became easier until eventually they passed through the barrier into the village, where suddenly everything was light and sound.

The settlement was not so peaceful and relaxed as the last time, though, Ren noticed worriedly. People were hurrying purposefully from place to place; the man in the white toga was no longer giving speeches, but had taken up a post next to a small hut and was handing out weapons of various shapes and sizes to the spirits that dashed past; a couple of children dashed here and there, bumbling along with enormous helmets or shields in their tiny hands.

"What's . . . going on?" Ren asked, bewildered. The air of carefree ease that had pervaded the village was gone, replaced by a thrumming tension that was almost palpable. With a start, he realised that he _could_ actually hear it. Looking up, he saw that the cylinder of magical light that enclosed the area had taken on an angry red tinge and had begun to shift slightly, patterns writhing across its surface like immiscible oil and water.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" came a familiar voice from somewhere in the crowd. Ren and Maho turned to face the source of the voice as Elly Darkstorm pushed her way through the milling mass to confront them. Her hair was tied back in a short, practical ponytail, and she was wearing her black leather gear, to the back of which was strapped her lethally sharp sword. She was pulling on a pair of thin leather gloves as she approached. "It's nowhere near time yet!"

Maho only shrugged, somehow managing to look indifferent despite the fact that Ren couldn't see his face.

"Why is he asleep?" Elly hissed, before just as quickly rounding on Ren. "Why are you asleep?"

Ren raised his hands in supplication. "I was tired . . . I fell asleep on the train! I didn't realise I'd end up here again!"

Elly swore loudly and vehemently. "Agh! You should have thought of that, moron! Now you're stuck here! I can't very well send you home at a time like this!"

"Wh-why not?" Ren enquired. "Clearly something's going on, so I'd be best out of your way . . ."

"That's not possible! If I open a portal to send you back to the second ring, the _Iehkti'na _will stream through and you'll be overrun!"

"How would they do that?" Ren asked incredulously. "I don't see any around here."

"Are you stupid?" Elly practically screeched. "Didn't you see that big black cloud out there?"

"Yes . . ." Ren said slowly, horror slipping onto his face as he remembered the enormous mass of what he had taken for stormclouds. "Wait, that was . . . they were . . ."

"Yes!" Elly rolled her eyes. "Man, you're slow!"

"But if they're out there, surely you can send me back before they get here?"

"It doesn't work like that! The instant you pass through that portal into the second ring, every _Iehkti'na _that's awake in this ring will go through into the second ring as well! I can't imagine you, or anybody else, for that matter, taking on so many at once."

"But you look like you feel pretty confident about beating them here," Ren reasoned, gesturing around at the buzz of activity. "They don't look like people who think they're going to lose." It was true. All of the spirits, from the elderly right down to the toddlers, bore the same expression of stolid determination, save for Elly, who was wearing a strange look that seemed to hover somewhere between 'Can you really be this stupid?' and 'I am going to kill you.' – or so it seemed to Ren. He flinched slightly.

"Look," Elly said, clearly making an effort to keep her temper under control. "There can only be one spirit in the second ring at once. Any more will destroy it – it's too unstable to handle our level of _yehkti_ as it is. So either we all fight those thousands of monsters here, or you and any one spirit of your choice can take your chances with every single one of them in the second ring. And you're not allowed to just jump through into the first ring, either, or they'll ruin your world. Frankly, I couldn't care less, if the best it can produce is the likes of you, but I don't think that's what _you_ want. You follow?"

Ren nodded, his mouth slightly open. "Looks . . . looks like I'm stuck here," he said, resigning himself to the fact.

"Yes, you are. Now we have to work out what to do with you. You ought to be safe as long as you don't leave the Glade, but I can't risk leaving you with anyone less than a top-level fighter, just in case. But who can we spare to- ah, of course. Maho, will you be joining us on the battlefield today?"

Maho, who had remained silent throughout the entire encounter, cocked his head slightly, glancing at Ren for a moment before nodding firmly, albeit clunkily. "I will," he rasped.

Elly pouted, dissatisfied. "Well, who the hell . . . I can't spare any of the council members, except Lucius, and he's really not going to be all that much help to you. The other generals are all committed to the battle already . . ." She trailed off and glared frostily into space, chewing her bottom lip.

"Guess who?" trilled another familiar voice from behind Ren, startling him. Before he could turn around, however, a pair of small hands were clamped firmly over his eyes. "Nuh-uh," said the voice. "I said guess, so you have to guess."

"Oh, for crying out loud . . ." Ren said, rolling his eyes as best he could.

"I felt that!" sulked the voice, kicking him sharply, but not too painfully, in the back of the knee.

"Cecilia, stop playing around!" Elly snapped.

"Aww, you ruined it!" Cecilia grumbled as she removed her hands from Ren's eyes and skipped around to stand next to Maho. "You knew it was me, though. Right, Ren?"

"Yes, I did," Ren sighed.

"Well!" Cecilia said abruptly. "It's settled, then!"

"What's settled?" Elly asked, looking a bit nonplussed.

"I'll take care of Ren while the rest of you go off to the battle," she said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

"Cecilia, I really can't spare you today. We need you on the front line."

"Ohhh?" Cecilia said archly, her voice suddenly taking on an edge that made Ren shiver. She pirouetted around to grab him by the shoulders from behind, peeking past his head at Elly. "Are you sure? Or are you just scared of what we'll get up to when we're . . . alone . . . together?" she said in barely more than a whisper, her breath tickling Ren's ear.

Maho gave a rattly, grating cough and Elly's eyes widened suddenly. "If you think it matters at all to me what you might get up to, you're mistaken!" she said huffily. "Fine. You take care of Ren, and we'll send him back afterwards. Come on, Maho. If you're going to be on the front line, we need to get you in command of your own troops for a change." With that, she whirled on the spot and marched away.

Cecilia giggled. "I think I touched a nerve."

Ren glanced across at her and just about bumped his nose into her head, which was still resting on his shoulder. "You can, uh, let me go now if you like," he said awkwardly.

"Nah," Cecilia said casually, threading her arm through his and leaning on his shoulder. "Escort me?"

Ren sighed internally. _This could be interesting._


	14. Blitzkrieg

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Blitzkrieg_

"We should keep out of everybody's way," said Cecilia, who, despite her request to be escorted, was firmly steering him towards the other side of the village.

"So . . . why are the _Iehkti'na_ here?" Ren asked, suddenly wondering why he hadn't noticed this before. "I didn't know they could get into the third ring."

"Get _in_? They don't need to get in, Ren. They _live_ here. In the third ring. Did you not pick that up last night?"

"Uh . . . no. If it was mentioned, I don't recall . . ."

"Well, yes. What did you think we had the Spirit Wall for? Ooh, tell you what, we'll borrow Maho's workshop while he's out. I think he's done a bunch of research on the _Iehkti'na_." With that, she abruptly changed direction, navigating them deftly through the crowd of busy spirits who were still rushing around, preparing for battle.

"Um, no offense, Cecilia, but I've just been wondering . . . you don't really seem like the fighting type."

"Well, I prefer not to be," she said, dodging a young, bronze-skinned man carrying a large, curved sword, "but if it comes down to it, I'm really quite competent, I promise."

"Oh . . . really?" Ren said, unable to mask his surprise.

"Yep! Now, wait here while I get changed," she said, depositing him in the shadow of an elegant marble house and dashing inside, her diaphanous silver robe fluttering behind her.

"Oh, good," Ren muttered. He had been wondering exactly how Cecilia was planning to do any fighting at all in the flimsy, barely-there outfit.

"_Yehktira!_"

Ren turned, puzzled. Cecilia's sister, Salinthia, was gliding towards him. After looking twice, Ren realised that she really was gliding, hovering an inch or so above the ground, a pale nimbus of green light emanating from her. She had already gone ahead and changed into battle dress, it seemed – not that it looked very practical, Ren had to admit. She had traded her silver robe for a thick, heavy purple one, tied with silver cord and hanging almost to her ankles.

"Oh, hello," he said, puzzled. "What can I, uh, do for you?"

"Felicia asked me to give this to you," she said with the slightest hint of a knowing smile, holding out the short sword he had used to kill the nightmare the previous night.

Ren took it hesitantly, the blade almost seeming to speak to him as he clasped his hand around its purple-bound grip. _I have taken life. You, through me, have taken life too_. He shuddered and ignored it. "Thanks," he said weakly. "Tell Elly I'm glad she's worried about me."

"I don't really think that's the case," Salinthia said. "I believe it has more to do with the fact that it would be disastrous if the _yehktira_ was killed. You personally have nothing to do with it."

"All the more reason to tell her, then," Ren grinned. Somehow, riling Elly up was fun.

Salinthia inclined her head gracefully before slipping back into the crowd, and Ren could tell she approved, even if she wouldn't say it.

Cecilia reappeared at his side a moment later, looking slightly miffed as she noticed the blade he was holding. "Present from your girlfriend?" she enquired coolly.

Ren had been a little afraid she would show up in an impractical-looking robe like her sister, but it turned out she had opted for a loose-fitting white costume that looked much like one of those worn by karate practitioners. He chose to ignore her comment. It just wasn't worth it. "Come on," he said. "Weren't we going to Maho's workshop or something?"

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she said, narrowing her eyes at the blade as he slotted it carefully through his belt. "Let's go."

"Are you sure it's OK, though?" Ren asked as they set off at a brisk trot. "Maho . . . didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate it if we went through his stuff."

"It's fine," she said airily, waving a hand as they swerved through the rapidly thinning crowd. Ren noticed that most of the spirits had congregated on one side of the village – the side opposite to the one they were headed towards. "As a member of the council, nobody can complain about what I do. Maho might be a General, but it doesn't mean he can tell me what to do outside of a war zone."

"Wait, he's a General?" Ren asked. "He didn't really strike me as the commanding type."

"He's not, really, but his level of magic is higher than anybody else's here, so he's General essentially by default, I guess. He hates taking responsibility for men under his command, though, so whenever we go to battle, he usually delegates control to his sub-General, a man called Hermann Faber. In fact, it's strange that he decided to even join the strike force today. Normally he's hiding in his workshop whenever it comes to trouble. It's not that he can't take care of himself in a fight. He just prefers not to have to."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Ren said absently, remembering the bolt of crackling blue lightning, the all-consuming inferno of hot orange fire. He shivered slightly, wondering for a brief moment whether Elly or Cecilia could do that too. "So, why do you think he actually chose to go out today, then?"

"My guess . . . he didn't want to babysit you," Cecilia said thoughtfully. "Remember I said he doesn't like taking responsibility for other people? I think when it comes down to it, he'd rather take care of a group of spellcasters that he knows, rather than a kid he doesn't. No offense, of course, but . . . Maho's a funny guy. A genius, for sure, but awfully strange with it."

"None taken," Ren mused. He thought on this for a moment, but then he became aware that they had come to a stop in front of a long, squat building that looked a little more dilapidated than the pristine edifices around it. It sat some way apart from the rest of the village, barely ten metres from the Spirit Wall that still flashed angry red colours.

Cecilia led him up a short flight of steps to the door, ignoring a sign that said 'Warning! Hazardous materials, dangerous creatures and delicate experiments inside! _Do not enter_.'

"Uh . . ." Ren said awkwardly, but Cecilia pushed open the door and practically dragged him in.

The interior of the building was, Ren had to admit, much like he would have expected something called a workshop – especially one owned by Maho – to look. It was spacious inside, with another short flight of steps leading down from the door to the marble floor, which was below ground level. The only light came from a series of small windows set along the tops of the long side walls, giving the space an eerie gloom.

Tables and piles of books lined each wall, with a single long wooden table stretching down the middle. While the table in the middle was empty save for the odd scrap of paper here and there, the ones set along the sides were groaning with piles of notes, arcane-looking ingredients, and other things Ren hesitated to even try to identify. On one of them, a beaker of red liquid was emitting puffs of pinkish smoke at regular intervals.

"Ooh," Cecilia breathed.

"You've not been in here before?" Ren asked weakly.

"Are you nuts? Maho's always in here. This has to be the first time in a hundred years he's left the workshop for long enough for me to take a look."

"So I'm just an excuse?" Ren chuckled.

"Partly," Cecilia admitted, skipping across to one of the tables on the left-hand wall and flicking through a couple of the books strewn across it. "This could take a while, though . . . here, you go down the right side. I know he's written a big paper on the nature of those _Iehkti'na _somewhere. No real clue where, unfortunately, so we'll have to look for it."

Ren sighed. "You don't . . . think ahead much, do you?" he said. He didn't really want to spend any longer trawling through the endless piles of books than he had to; Maho's workshop was starting to creep him out.

"Never," she said. "Still, life wouldn't be much fun if I did, would it?"

Ren shook his head in exasperation and crossed to the right-hand side of the long, narrow room to start flicking through books.

For a good ten minutes, there was silence as Ren picked up each book – none of them had titles or any other distinguishing marks on the cover – opened it to its first page and pored over the scribbled handwriting. It appeared these books had all been crafted and written by Maho himself; the jerky, irregular handwriting seemed as if it could belong to no other than the awkward giant.

The subjects of the books varied widely, from thick tomes on botany and chemistry to catalogues of incantations in a language Ren couldn't even recognise, let alone read. Many of them, however, seemed to deal with something called the Soul Bonds. One of them, a small red book which seemed quite new despite its well-thumbed pages, seemed to contain an introduction of sorts. Curious despite his misgivings about rooting through the magician's library, Ren struggled to decipher a couple of pages of the scrawled, messy handwriting.

"_The nature of the Soul Bonds is an enigmatic one. While it is certain that they came into being at the same time as we – and our world – did, about seven hundred years past. The Soul Bonds are integral in the stability of both our worlds, for if they are allowed to dissolve, the worlds will drift apart, with disastrous consequences. It is almost certain that the Bonds were crafted by the same person – or persons – who brought our world into existence, for they bear identical magical signatures._

"_The first time it became evident that the Soul Bonds were collapsing, we sought a means to prevent our destruction. I had ascertained that a great amount of _yehkti_ was necessary to re-cast the Soul Bonds, yet not of the kind that is found within this world. It is thus that the need for a _yehktira_ came about. Through a concerted and risky effort, eleven of our strongest spellcasters journeyed through the second ring and into the first, using all of their combined power to create the Dreamlight, the artefact that allows a mortal to pass between the rings as we do. They bestowed this powerful item on a man known as Drayden, who then became the first _yehktira_. They brought him into the third ring, and his _yehkti_ healed the Soul Bonds._

"_Drayden was never needed again, for the Soul Bonds remained stable. Before he died, he passed the Dreamlight on to his son, a man with a far greater measure of _yehkti_ than his father. He also was needed only once in his lifetime. This went on for more than five centuries, until Drayden's line died out. His last descendant handed the Dreamlight on to a woman who would go on to found the contest known as the Pokemon League. Her name was Martha Birch. With my aid, Martha discovered some form of link between those who have great amounts of _yehkti_ and those who perform the most admirably in the tests called Pokemon battles. As a result, she agreed to hand the Dreamlight on to whoever could defeat her in battle, and the tradition of the Dreamlight that lives on today began._

"_Twice in her lifetime, Martha was required to enter the third ring and stabilise the Soul Bonds. We saw no real need for consternation at this stage, however, for the Soul Bonds remained relatively stable._

"_Over the next hundred years, however, as the Dreamlight was passed from hand to hand, the frequency with which the _yehktira_ was forced to enter the third ring increased dramatically. As of the year 685 (which the humans call 1985), it was necessary to renew the Soul Bonds twice annually._

"_It was also around this time that the _Iehkti'na_ began to show an interest in the _yehktira_ and their world. Slowly at first, the smallest of the beasts were able to slip through into the second ring and harass the bearer of the Dreamlight. In these early days, a few small _Iehkti'na _found their way through to the first ring, though they are all believed to have been trapped there, haunting the nightmares of humans and Pokemon, as they are not strong enough to push through into the humans' world. It soon became customary for a powerful spirit to act as the _yehktira_'s escort during these times, and the attacks were dealt with swiftly._

"_Now, the Soul Bonds are deteriorating faster than ever. They reach a critical level within a day and a half of being renewed, so the _yehktira_ must navigate the rings nightly to refresh and recover them. The attacks of the _Iehkti'na_ are growing bolder, stronger and more frequent, and it appears it will soon reach the point where the _yehktira_'s escort will not be able to guard against them._

"_The current _yehktira_ and Champion of the Pokemon League, Steven Stone, is giving his best effort to work towards a solution in his world, as am I in ours, but I fear our efforts will be in vain. The only one who can truly bring the Soul Bonds back to full strength is the one who cast them in the first place, and the knowledge of who that could be is lost in the sands of time, as is, surely, the man himself."_

"Ren! I found it!"

Ren blinked a few times, almost dropping the book. Suddenly, it seemed like he had stumbled into something far more serious than he could have imagined. His head was spinning. _Soul Bonds?_ Hadn't Elly said something like that the first time she had met her? Then again, she had also said that the _Iehkti'na _came from the first ring, which he had recently found to not be the case at all. _What did she mean by that?_

"Ren!" Cecilia crossed to the middle table and plonked a thick-looking book down on it. "You awake over there?"

"Uh . . . yeah." Ren slid the book back into the middle of the pile he had found it in. "Just daydreaming." For some reason, he had the strangest feeling he should keep what he had come across quiet. He moved over to look at what Cecilia had dug out. The royal purple-bound tome's pages were yellowed and crisp with age, though the black ink was still clearly legible.

"You'd do well to read this page," Cecilia said, indicating a spot in the book. "It deals with the origin of the _Iehkti'na_. It reads a little bit like a fairy story, but that's Maho for you. He's . . . _quirky_ . . . like that. You read, and I'll be over here, um . . . doing something else." She slipped away quickly, down towards the far end of the workshop.

Ren watched her go with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then, shaking himself out of the strange fugue in which he found himself, he began to read once again.

"_Over six hundred years ago, the world of dreams emerged from the void. Brought into existence by a man of whom we know very little, we were not born like humans, hatched like Pokemon or grown like plants. We simply _were_. And so, as we were, were the _Iehkti'na_. As we came to be in the third ring, so they came to be in the first._

"_In those first years of turmoil, the _Iehkti'na_ preyed upon the dreams of the humans as they slept in the first ring. Many escaped to the human world and caused great chaos. Although we did not wish to endanger ourselves for the sake of the humans, we felt obligated to them, for it was certainly thanks to one of their number that we came to be – though how, we know not. Also, we knew not of the significance of the humans' role in the maintenance of the Soul Bonds at this time. So it was that we, headstrong and drunk on our own power, waged war against the _Iehkti'na_._

"_It was a long and bloody conflict, but in the end, we triumphed. While strong and many, the _Iehkti'na _were fuelled by anger and hatred of all that was good. While few, we knew we fought to save our creator. We defeated the Iehkti'na, but could not destroy them. So instead, we brought them to the third ring and sealed them away so they could bother the humans – and us – no more._

"_We thought that was the end of it. But before long, the _Iehkti'na _broke their bonds and once again attacked us. We beat them back, but were unable to seal them again. Again and again they came, and they were stronger each time. Eventually, tired from endless war and fatigued from beating them back, we set about creating the Spirit Wall, which we set around the Glade of Shifting Light. This wall not only prevents any of evil intent from entering, but also disguises our presence. We are hidden deep within the forest, and the _Iehkti'na_ know this, but they know not where, for the woods are vast, and we beat them back every time they come near the edge._

"_So the cycle goes on. Eventually, Drayden came to us, and then his son, and his son's son, and his son's son's son. Throughout history, nothing significant has changed, and we carry on with the same security as we always have. Now and then, the drums of war are sounded, and we stand forth to fight back the evil. Always, we are triumphant. No men have fallen in battle since the great wars of the early days. While the _Iehkti'na_, who are soulless bodies, fall like corn before the scythe, our bodiless souls are incredibly resilient. We do not age, we do not grow sick. We do not die, unless we are killed._

"_And so the cycle goes on."_

Ren blinked. "That sounds . . . ominous." He set the book down and wandered after Cecilia, who, it turned out, was carefully examining a beaker of some viscous green sludge, swirling it around the bowl of the glass vessel with her eye glued to the neck.

"Oh, hello, Ren," she said absently as he approached, not taking her eyes off the gooey substance. There was a sudden _poof_ as she spoke, sending a cloud of steam squeezing out of the beaker. "Ow!" she squealed, dropping the container.

Ren stretched out a hand and caught it with a brief sigh of relief, trying not to think about what would have happened if it had shattered. "You all right?" he asked.

"My eye stings like you wouldn't believe," she grumbled, rubbing it sulkily. "That was mean of him, to leave something like that lying around."

Ren cast a glance down at the still-steaming beaker in his hand before settling it carefully back on the table. Somehow, he didn't really think it had been intended as a booby trap. He didn't say anything, though.

"So, are you a little more educated now?" she asked, still squinting slightly.

"A bit . . ." he said slowly, trying to piece together the stories told in the two texts he had been reading. "One little thing struck me as strange, though . . . the book referred to the _Iehkti'na_ as being 'soulless bodies' and you as 'bodiless souls'. I think Elly said something about that as well, but . . . it's strange. You do have bodies, don't you? I mean . . . you're there. I can touch you."

Cecilia took a deep breath. "It's funny like that . . . just because we have physical form here doesn't mean we have bodies. What it means is that we can't cross into your world and take a corporeal form there like the _Iehkti'na_ can. If they pass through the first ring and out through somebody's dream, they can actually manifest themselves and cause chaos. If we try it, we end up trapped there, intangible, drained of all our power and sometimes even unable to speak – what you might know as . . . ghosts."

"You mean . . . Ghost-type Pokemon are-"

"No, not from what Steven and the others have told us. Ghost-type Pokemon have always been around, and they're just that – the corrupted, departed souls of those who were once alive. When you see a ghost that looks human . . . it's one of ours." She was oddly quiet, and it took Ren a moment to figure out why. She must have personally known every single one of the spirits that tried to cross to his world, and must have watched them all leave over the last seven hundred years, waiting for a homecoming that would never arrive.

"I'm upsetting you," he said quickly. "I'll, uh, stop now."

"No, it's fine," she demurred. "I'm used to it. We get a lot of different _yehktira_ through here now – often a new one every year thanks to the Pokemon League – and we interact with them far more than we used to. The issue usually comes up sooner or later, and I guess we owe you that much . . . to know. It's not like it affects you directly, but you're pretty much a part of our world now. Now more than ever, actually, now that it's necessary to bring you in here every night."

"That's a funny thought," Ren murmured, looking around the long, dim room. "I can see what Steven meant when he said it changed him . . ."

"He said that?"

"Yeah. I mean, I've only been here twice now, but it really makes you wonder about a few things. Like . . . I always thought ghosts were just ghosts – if they existed at all – but it turns out they're something very different, and a little sad. I'm a little scared, to be perfectly honest – what else might be completely different to how I had imagined it? Everything I know could be wrong . . ."

"I know it's hard," Cecilia murmured, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "It does change you, but you can't expect it to happen . . . well, overnight. There's a lot of information that's coming into your brain at once, and you're having trouble coping. It will come, though."

"Did . . . did the other _yehktira_ ever have this problem?" Ren asked, his voice a little thick with a sudden onset of confused emotions.

"Some," she said matter-of-factly. "Well, I think they all did, but some showed it more than others. Steven just stood in a corner for an hour or two without saying anything to anyone, and then came out and went 'All right, I've got it now.' On the other hand . . . a couple of decades ago, we had a woman who absolutely freaked. She kept screaming, fainting and hyperventilating in equal measures. It took her weeks to get over the shock properly."

Ren grinned wryly. "I guess I'm taking it pretty well, all things considered," he said, feeling something of a weight lift off his shoulders as he said it.

"You're a smart kid, Ren," Cecilia told him quietly. "You can look at things and see them as they are, even if you don't realise it yourself."

"What . . . what do you mean?"

"Well, let's see . . . Elly told me that when she brought you to the Glade for the first time, you actually looked around while you passed through. Most humans we bring here tend to either stare blankly ahead or look at the ground. The ones that do look around, more often than not, tend not to see much. They just gawk. Elly seemed to get the impression that you actually _saw_, instead of just _looking_."

"There's a difference?"

"Between seeing and looking? Of course. A huge difference. It's the difference between you and just about everyone else in the human world, for sure."

Ren frowned slightly as a thought that had been niggling at him all day suddenly sprang to the front of his mind. "How do you know so much about the human world, Cecilia?" he asked. "I mean, if everyone who tries to go there . . . you know . . ."

"You must think I'm a fool, Ren Goodwin," she chided him playfully, rapping him on the head. "I'm seven hundred years old, and I've met dozens of different humans from all over the place. Steven Stone in particular was extremely helpful, actually. Like you, he seemed to take a genuine interest in our world, and because of that, we reciprocated that interest. The council often took to simply sitting and listening to him talk for hours. He was such a good talker, despite how quiet and formal he could be."

"Oh," Ren said bashfully. "Of course. That would make sense. Actually, that sounds like . . . a good idea. I'd be happy to do that with you sometime – if you don't mind, that is. You could maybe tell me a little bit more about this world, too."

"Ren Goodwin," Cecilia said, a flicker of amusement dancing in her sea-green eyes, "I do believe you're hitting on me."

"I-I am?" Ren stuttered, confused. "I-I didn't notice-" He stopped when he noticed that Cecilia was laughing, a light, musical laugh that filled the cavernous room like the peals of a bell. He chuckled nervously.

"Oh, Ren," Cecilia giggled. "You're too easy to tease. Come on, let's get out of here before Maho comes back – or I break something." She raised her eyebrows guiltily before taking his hand and pulling him back towards the door.

Ren stumbled along in her wake, pondering just how strange Cecilia could get. At the door, she let go of his hand and almost flew down the stairs to the grass below, suddenly extremely energetic. Ren followed her down, half-smiling despite himself.

At the bottom of the stairs, he froze. "Cecilia," he said gravely. "You know what you said just now about how I 'see' things that other people might not?"

She frowned. "Yes?"

"Well, I was just wondering . . . do you see those _Iehkti'na _as well, or is it just me?"


	15. The Soldiers of Justice

**A/N: **Yep, yep, this is where stuff begins to happen a little bit. Sorry I left off posting this for a while; I kind of forgot, and you have my sincerest apologies for that. I don't know if anyone's even reading any more, but oh well. Anyway, like I've said: things. Happening. Fun things.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

_The Soldiers of Justice_

The nightmares appeared from everywhere, slipping out from shadowy gaps between buildings and dropping silently from the eaves. Within seconds, Ren and Cecilia found themselves completely surrounded by at least twenty of the dark, foreboding shapes. Their opponents were of varying shapes and sizes; some were barely knee-high on Ren while others were hulking, looming masses of shadow over two metres tall.

They stood, waiting, their roughly circular formation unmoving as they regarded Ren with various frightening eyes. Some were narrow and red, others huge and blazing blue. One particularly large specimen – standing directly opposite Maho's workshop – had three eyes, wisps of green fire trailing from them as it shifted on the spot, seemingly waiting for them to make the first move. Some – much like the ones he and Elly had encountered in the second ring – had no eyes at all.

Cecilia swore violently, the curse words sounding strange coming from one so slight and delicate. "How the hell did they get inside the Spirit Wall?"

"Doesn't matter," said Ren practically, drawing the short sword from his belt. He felt slightly better for having it in his hand, but he knew it wouldn't do him much good. "They're inside, so we're going to have to work out how after we deal with them."

"Easier said than done," Cecilia grumbled. "I'm not used to fighting this many at once."

"You're more used to it than I am, for sure," Ren said tightly, looking around for a way to escape. There was nothing. Other than back into Maho's workshop – which was probably a dead end – the _Iehkti'na _had totally blocked off every possible way out of the small courtyard in which they now stood.

"This is uncanny," Cecilia muttered, taking up an fighting stance. It didn't look like any martial art Ren had ever seen, so he hoped she, at least, knew what she was doing. "Why aren't they attacking?"

"They normally do?"

"They're blind, stupid killers," she said, frowning as she tried to keep her eyes on all of their opponents at once. "They charge out and all attack at once. No variation, no tactics, no intelligence. Laying an ambush is something completely new . . . not to mention that they got inside the Spirit Wall to begin with, which should be impossible. Something is very, very wrong here. And as long as they don't attack, they've got the advantage over us."

"What? Why?"

"Think, Ren. It's you they want, although they'll kill me without a second thought. As long as they stay there, I can't get to any of them without leaving you unguarded. While you've got guts, you're not competent enough in a fight to hold them off long, if at all."

Ren shivered. The normally relaxed Cecilia was extraordinarily serious, and it unsettled him. Despite her composure, he could feel anxiety pouring off her in waves. That, and something else. Fear. Cecilia was scared, although he knew she would neither exhibit nor admit it. With a deep breath, he tightened his hand around the handle of his sword and held it ready in front of him, sweat already dampening the grip.

"You don't have to fight," Cecilia said. "I know humans have some compunction about killing living creatures, so I'd understand if you didn't want to. Not that they're exactly _living_, but I wouldn't expect that to work on your subconscious."

For a split second, images flashed through Ren's mind, unbidden. The melting _Iehkti'na _with its vinegar stench; the crackling, charred _Iehkti'na _with flashes of blue light dancing across its entire body; worst of all, the _Iehkti'na _he himself had sliced into with the very blade that he now held in his hand, disappearing in a blast of wind. "They're really . . . not alive?" he asked.

"No, they're not," Cecilia confirmed. "They're just empty husks. They don't think, they don't feel, they just _are_."

"Then I'll fight them," Ren said.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course." Suddenly, Ren realised the absurdity of holding this conversation while surrounded by a patiently waiting group of the things. "If they ever get around to it, that is. What do you suppose they're waiting for?"

"If they were intelligent, I'd imagine they were waiting for one of us to make a move so they could cut us off from each other and kill us separately."

"But they're not?"

"So I thought, and so everybody thought."

"Don't make me start doubting myself now," Ren complained. "I just managed to convince myself that it was all right to kill them, but now you're just confusing me."

"Sorry! I'm nearly as confused as you are," Cecilia admitted, warily eyeing the nearest of the nightmares, a bulky, four-legged creature with a flat, solid-looking head.

"So, let's just assume for a minute that they actually are intelligent," Ren said, taking a deep breath to steady his heartbeat. As he calmed down, he felt his brain begin to work. "If they're doing what you say they are, they want to separate us, right?"

"Yes, but I don't see how that helps us too much."

"It's simple," Ren said, a slight smile coming to his face despite himself. "We don't split up. We take the fight to them, but we go together. That way, you can focus on doing your thing . . . whatever that 'thing' may be, and I'll just do my best to stay alive. Hopefully I can keep them off your back a little, too, though I really don't know how well that will work."

"You'd do that?"

"It's . . . it's probably our only chance of getting out of this, isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Cecilia admitted. "But I don't want you feeling you have to do it. It's not your job to fight _Iehkti'na_, you know. In fact, I feel kind of bad for letting you get into this situation."

Ren shook his head. "Stop that."

"Stop . . . what?" Cecilia shot him a confused look.

"You're worrying about me too much. Sure, I don't know what I'm doing. Sure, I can't swing a sword properly to save my life. But it doesn't mean you have to keep patronising me! I know you're not doing it on purpose, but it's starting to get on my nerves a little bit."

Cecilia fell silent for a moment. Ren wondered if he had offended her, but when he glanced over at her, she was smiling as if she knew something he didn't. "See?" she said.

"See . . . what?"

"You do _see_ things," she told him. "Not just physical observation – I get the feeling you can look at a situation and read exactly what's happening. Most _yehktira_ would be quite happy to let me worry about them in this situation. And it's not just a matter of pride, either. That's irrelevant at this point. But in any case, I'm sorry, Ren. I couldn't help looking down on you just a little bit. After all, I'm nearly seven hundred years your senior. But from now on, that changes. Better?"

With a slight thrill of some feeling he couldn't adequately describe, Ren realised that it was. "Much," he grinned. "Now I think we'd better get on with it before these things get bored of waiting."

"Good call," she said. "I say we go straight at the big one in the middle. It looks like some sort of leader, so if we take it out, we'll have a better chance. On three?"

He swallowed. "Sure."

Cecilia exhaled deeply and lowered her stance slightly. "One."

Ren took a deep breath, wrapping his hands still more firmly around the hilt of his sword; the thin sliver of metal was the only thing standing between him and a painful, confusing death.

"Two."

He cast his eyes around the circle of _Iehkti'na_. They were all far bigger and stronger than he was. All he could do was hope Cecilia could deal with them – and that he didn't screw up too badly.

"Three!"

Ren's legs were moving before his mind could even react. Short sword held high, heart rattling in his ribcage, he threw himself towards the three-eyed monstrosity. He was vaguely aware of a blur of movement beside him, but then it was gone and Cecilia was upon their opponent.

It was as if she had become liquid lightning. From a running start, she threw herself upwards, her movements slick and practised. Landing on the enormous beast's arm, she paused, jumped again and landed a devastating spinning kick straight in the _Iehkti'na's_ torso with a sound like a cannon shot. Visible shockwaves rippled out from the point of impact, distorting the air and the surface of the beast as they did so.

Refocusing himself, Ren concentrated once more on catching up with Cecilia as she continued to rain blows on the massive nightmare. It was bigger than he had first thought, he realised as he drew nearer; it had to be at least seven metres tall. Regardless, he swung his sword with all the strength he could muster at the beast's knee – the highest point he could comfortably reach. The blade made contact with an unexpected _boom_ sound, as if he had struck an enormous, hollow metal drum rather than a living creature.

The sword practically bounced off, almost twisting his wrist with the force. Still, the enormous _Iehkti'na_ seemed to notice. It stepped backwards, moving its leg back from the blow. Before its foot even touched the ground, however, Cecilia bounced off its shoulder, delivering a debilitating punch to the face. Caught off balance, the _Iehkti'na_ stumbled backwards and fell to the ground with a crash, crushing half a building as it did so.

"Come on!" Cecilia urged. Suddenly, she was beside him, grabbing his hand and tugging him onwards. He stumbled into a run, glancing back over his shoulder as he did so. The other _Iehkti'na_ had been slow to move, he noted thankfully, but with the fall of their apparent leader, they had been spurred into action. A wave of shadows now washed after them, some more distinct than others, some blending into a gelatinous mass that bubbled and rushed after them. As Ren tore his eyes away to look forward again, he caught a brief glimpse of the nightmare that Cecilia had just decked, once more towering over its compatriots.

_She never meant to fight them at all_, he realised, letting his feet move automatically as Cecilia practically dragged him between rows of white marble buildings._ But why didn't she tell me that? Despite what she said, she still looks down on me . . . no, that can't be it._ He had seen something in her eyes while she was talking about their strategy – a glint of steel that told him she was prepared to fight to the bitter end. Looking back, it seemed obvious, but at the time he had not noticed anything._ She must have seen the opening and decided to go for it, _he decided, making himself feel a little better.

"Are you even awake?" Cecilia shouted at him as he stumbled for what must have been the tenth time. Still gripping his hand with her surprisingly strong fingers, she slowed her pace a little to run beside him, easily navigating through the maze of buildings as she peered worriedly into his eyes. "You look a little bit out of it," she said in a falsely casual manner.

"I'm fine," he said. "Where are we going?" He threw another glance over his shoulder; the _Iehkti'na_ were still there, although a good way behind. He was beginning to run short of breath. While he was hardly unfit, the sustained dash was beginning to take the wind out of him. Cecilia, by contrast, seemed utterly relaxed, as if she were taking a stroll in Slateport Market.

"No idea," she said frankly. "I was kind of hoping you might."

"Me?" Ren panted incredulously. "You're the one who damn well lives here!"

"Worth a shot," she said airily before abruptly changing direction, just about wrenching Ren's arm out of its socket as she did so.

"Can you . . . let go?" he gasped as they squeezed between two buildings leaning towards each other at odd angles.

Cecilia looked a little miffed, but released his hand. Immediately, Ren found it easier to run, although he was still having trouble keeping up with the light-footed Cecilia. It was a little difficult to get his head around this slender creature being any kind of force to be reckoned with, but she had clearly proven that impression wrong just moments ago.

Suddenly, they turned a corner and the Spirit Wall towered over them, a massive blue sheet of energy, irradiated and pulsing with tinges of red. Cecilia came to a sudden halt, and Ren tripped and almost fell as he stopped as well.

"Why are we . . . stopping?" he asked as he bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to recover as much of his breath as he could.

Cecilia ignored him for a moment, looking back over his head with a look of mild consternation on her face. "Still coming," she murmured absently.

"What, really?" Ren turned to look. He had hoped that they might have lost the slow, lumbering _Iehkti'na_ by now, but he could still see them. They were some distance away, and moving at no great speed, but the cloud of blackness was plowing steadily through the Glade of Shifting Light. He could see it above the roofs of the buildings. "Damn."

"We can't fight them here," Cecilia said. "Not with just the two of us. Our only chance is to meet up with the others . . . that'll be dangerous, but at this stage I don't believe we have any choice in the matter."

"You mean . . . outside the Glade? Where all the rest of the _Iehkti'na_ are?"

She threw him a grin that made him shiver. "What's this? You're not scared, are you?"

Ren swallowed, half-wishing he could just wake up. "Never."

All thoughts of secrecy and silence apparently discarded, Cecilia practically flew through the forest. Ren could tell she was checking her pace for his benefit, but he still had a difficult time keeping her in sight. In the pitch blackness of the woods, she seemed to glow faintly. Although he could see no actual light emanating from her, he found he was barely able to navigate his way through the trees. It was certainly a puzzling phenomenon; while trees were rushing at him from the blackness at what seemed like a remarkable speed, he somehow managed to jink out of the way at the last moment every time.

_What is this feeling? _he wondered. _It's like everything's slowing down . . ._

They burst out of the forest and into the middle of a war zone. The eerie absence of noise that had pervaded the woods entirely vanished in an instant, replaced by the sounds of battle.

Even so, it was quieter than Ren would have expected. There was no gunfire; only the odd magical explosion sending multi-hued clouds smoking into the sky. The massed army of nightmares, stretching impossibly far across the grassy plain, fought silently as always, and there was hardly any noise coming from the spirits either. Occasionally, an indistinct command would be bellowed across the field, and a small group of combatants would advance, retreat or shift their attention to a different quarter.

Ren found that he and Cecilia had emerged onto the plain at the top of a small hill that afforded a decent view of the battlefield. Beyond a certain point on the ground, everything was a mass of writhing black. _Millions of them_, Ren thought in disbelief. He hadn't thought it possible that there were that many _Iehkti'na_ in any world. They melded into one enormous, seething blot on the landscape, hundreds of thousands waiting to step in as soon as their comrades fell.

And fall they did, Ren noticed. A narrow line of spirits – pitifully few in number compared to the legions of nightmares pressing in from all sides – encircled the hill they stood on, slashing, stabbing or shooting the oncoming waves of nightmares, who were collapsing in droves. None of the opponents seemed very big, although it was hard to tell from such a distance. He was sharing the hill, Ren noticed abruptly, with a large white tent. There was no apparent entry on the forest side of the canvas monolith, so he moved around the side of it.

The front was a hive of activity. Two huge flaps had been drawn back from the tent and fastened to the roof, so almost the whole front of the structure was open to the battlefield. Inside were a large number of spirits. Few of them were dressed in battle gear, but they all appeared very busy, dashing around, waving papers and generally getting in each others' way. Still, Ren noticed after a few seconds, there was order. A chaotic kind of order, to be sure, but order nonetheless. Every few seconds, a runner would either dash off towards the front line or return from it. Amidst it all, standing calmly in the mouth of the tent like a policeman directing traffic, was a single man.

He drew Ren's attention towards him inexorably, although there was nothing special about him that Ren could identify just from looking. He was of average height, with a slight build and brown hair flecked with grey, pulled back into a tight ponytail. He was wearing a white toga with a purple sash, which – while undoubtedly odd – was no stranger than anybody else's costume. "Who's that?" he asked aloud.

"Ah," said Cecilia, who had come up behind him unnoticed. "The guy in the stupid bedsheet?"

"Well . . . I guess?" Ren said, slightly uncomfortable with her making fun of somebody who was clearly in a position of authority.

"That's Cicero. Named himself after some guy from your world, I think. He's one of the Four Generals," she said.

"There are four? Wait, you said Maho was one, right?"

"Yep. The army functions under four units – Tactical, Magical, Armed, and Unarmed, largely ranked in that order. Each unit has a General that supervises all activity in his division. Maho is the Spellcaster General – he'll be the one raising hell over there," she noted, pointing to a spot on the battle lines where a small stormcloud seemed to be whirling at ground level, spitting bolts of blue lightning into the enemy forces.

Suddenly worried about their pursuers, Ren glanced back towards the forest. Had the _Iehkti'na_ from the Glade followed them through yet?

"They won't catch us yet," Cecilia said unconcernedly, as if reading his mind. "Anyway, we need to find-"

"Cecilia! Ren Goodwin! What in the worlds are you doing here?"

Ren turned to see a small, rotund man hurrying towards them from the base of the hill. After a second, he recognised him as Lucius Balthazar, one of the elders on the council. "Well, it's kind of the safest place to be right now, I guess," Ren said wryly.

Lucius' eyes just about bugged out of his head. "Are you mad, boy? Elly will kill you when she finds out! Or she'll kill _you_, at the very least," he amended, gesturing helplessly at Cecilia.

"Lucius, listen to me!" she snapped. "We don't have a choice in being here! There are _Iehkti'na_ in the Glade!"

Ren didn't think it was possible for Lucius Balthazar to look any more confused and shocked than he already did, but the bald man managed it somehow. "Wh-what?" he spluttered. "H-how? Not possible!"

"It is," Cecilia ground out.

"Uh-oh, that's the serious face," Lucius said, suddenly regaining his composure and nodding. "Right. Ah . . . come with me, we'll talk to Cicero. Walk and talk, you two," he urged, chivvying them through the crowd towards the General. "How many were there? No, on second thoughts, don't answer that. You'd just have to repeat it in a minute anyway."

Cicero had moved by the time they reached him; he was leaning on a large table upon which was spread an enormous, detailed map of the surrounding area, complete with a semicircle of red, green and yellow pins arrayed around a series of lines Ren recognised as the hill they were standing on. He swallowed uncomfortably as he glanced at the mass of blue pins pressing in from all sides except the forest.

The Tactical General traced half a dozen lines on the map with his finger, nodding and shaking his head as a handful of officers – or so Ren presumed – clustered around him, listening intently. Ren watched as Cicero handed out hastily scribbled messages on slips of paper to each of them before sending them off with a whirl of his hand. In the same movement, he turned and marched away from the table, only to stop as he came face to face with Ren.

They were about the same height, Ren noticed, with the spirit being only an inch or two taller. For a moment, Ren stared into the General's sharp hazel eyes, until they blinked and they both stepped back. Unsure whether he should salute, Ren made do with a slight bow, which Cicero returned.

"You must be Ren Goodwin," he said simply.

"That's me," Ren said.

"You have good eyes," Cicero said thoughtfully, tapping his chin with a spindly finger. "The eyes of a tactician. Am I right?"

Ren thought briefly of his Pokemon battles, back home in his own world, of his extensive plans, strategies and countermeasures. "I guess so," he shrugged.

"Don't guess!" Cicero snapped, the sudden sharpness in his voice sending an unpleasant tingle down his spine. "Never guess. Always know! If you don't know, make it your business to find out! That is the motto of the Tactical Division's Intelligence Corps. Made that up myself. I think you and I are going to get along splendidly, but not now. I have a battle to oversee." He turned and started to walk away, but then snapped back towards Ren with a thoughtful look on his face. "Now that I think of it, you were meant to be under the guard of Miss Cecilia here back in the Glade of Shifting Light. You must have some reason to be here rather than there, correct?"

"Well, actually-"

"The _Iehkti'na_ have infiltrated the Glade, and they tried to kill you both. Their numbers were too many, so you fled here to find safety amongst friendly forces. Correct?"

"You knew? So why did you ask?"

"Wrong! I did not know!" Cicero said proudly, raising an admonishing finger.

"So you guessed? But you just said never to-"

"Ah, but what I did was not guesswork. I simply sorted through the possible outcomes and came up with the only plausible one given the circumstances."

"Really? There were no other possible explanations?"

"The next most likely was that you had developed a romantic fixation on Felicia Darkstorm and persuaded or forced Miss Cecilia to accompany you here so you could be by her side. So no, I think my scenario seems to be quite the most likely."

Ren felt his face heating up despite the obvious untruth of the suggestion. "I don't even-"

"Jokes aside, Mr. Goodwin, we must take this seriously," Cicero said, turning and striding away towards the front of the tent. "Walk with me!" he commanded.

Ren trotted along beside him, feeling rather overcome by the man's strange personality. While he was probably the most normal of the spirits he had met so far, Cicero was still exceedingly strange. _He was joking just now? But he said it with such a straight face_.

Cicero continued to walk through the crowd at a brisk pace, accepting memos, scribbling notes and passing them on as he did so. "We must – ah, thank you, Perkins – determine how the _Iehkti'na_ passed – take this to Shantelle, soldier – the Spirit Wall. We'll need to work with the Spellcaster General and his experts for that, so that must wait until after the battle. No, the left flank is fine, I dispatched some of the Fourth Division there a moment ago. What we need to do now, however, is make sure we are not outflanked, for it is clear the enemy are behind us as well as in front."

"Do we have enough . . . forces to do that?" Ren asked worriedly. The line at the front looked pretty thin as it was.

"Of course," Cicero said, beckoning over a young man in a black coat. He bent over and spoke into the man's ear in a low, urgent tone for a few seconds. The man nodded and dashed away. "There will be a rearguard in place within ninety seconds," Cicero told Ren. "You have done your part for now, though I would talk with you immediately after the battle. I cannot risk sending you into the field, of course, so if you would be so kind as to find a corner and sit down, we can proceed as usual. Miss Cecilia, of course, will be joining the fray, I imagine?"

Cecilia glanced uncertainly at Ren. "I don't know . . ." she said slowly. "He's my responsibility."

"I'll be fine." Ren waved her on. "It's not like anything's going to happen to me here, is it?"

"Of course it's not," said Cicero tightly. "While the Tactical Division is not, strictly speaking, a combat unit, you can rest assured that our _yehktira_ will be just fine with us."

Cecilia's eyes narrowed, but she nodded, threw Ren one last wink, and dashed away, towards the battle.

_What was that? _Ren wondered. Had he imagined it, or was there some tension in the air? Deciding to think about it later, he put his head down and, with a final nod to Cicero, dodged his way through the crowd of spirits within the command centre towards a place where it seemed likely he would find some kind of respite from the hubbub.


	16. Total War

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Total War_

Ren stayed in his corner for a good fifteen minutes before boredom overtook him. During that time, however, he did his best to make some sense of the hubbub going on around him. There were fewer spirits in the tent than he had originally thought – perhaps no more than two dozen – but the intensity and speed of their operations made them seem like a much greater host. The apparent chaos was, in fact, not chaos at all, he noticed. There were a lot of people moving around, passing in front of each other and sidling past tables with precariously balanced stacks of notes, but none of them ever collided or had to stop for someone else. Contrary to the apparent disorganisation, the level of coordination was beyond freakish – it was supernatural.

After learning that he could not make out any of the frantic conversations going on around him, no matter how hard he strained his ears, Ren's thoughts turned to other things – specifically, the battle raging outside. From his nook at ground level between two tables, he did not have a very good view of anything going on outside. If he listened carefully, he could make out vague sounds of warfare over the noise around him, but he could see nothing more than a few floating shadows in the sky. Peering through the legs of half a dozen trestle tables and ten or so spirits, he could just make out the louring mass of nightmares stretching back for what looked to be miles. Every time he stood up to try and get a better look, he was hastily and politely pushed back down again by someone passing by.

_Seems I can't do anything_, Ren grumbled to himself. Suddenly, he became aware of a hubbub at the rear of the tent. His head whipped around instinctively to follow the noise, even though all he could see there was a blank canvas wall. From the sounds of it, the _Iehkti'na_ that he had encountered in the village had come crashing out of the forest at last. Biting his lip, Ren continued to stare at the back wall of the tent, listening to the sounds of battle outside. They were much closer and louder than the fighting on the plain; he could hear thuds, clangs and screeches as the spirits' weapons made contact with the nightmares' strange, pseudo-metallic bodies. Every now and again, he even heard a cry of pain.

Abruptly, there was a great creaking, splintering crash, causing Ren to jump. It sounded like a tree being toppled over. There was a stamping noise, a roar from the rear of the tent that made him flinch again, and then the canvas was torn asunder by hands made of pure darkness.

Ren got to his feet hastily as the Tactical Division broke and fled, tumbling out of the front of the tent as fast as their legs could carry them. Ren remained frozen to the spot, staring straight at the enormous tear in the canvas. Three glowing green eyes peered through the gap, arranged in a triangular formation atop a large, shapeless head. It was the same _Iehkti'na_ that he and Cecilia had knocked down back in the Glade. In the gap past its smoky, shadowy body, he could see what had until recently been an enormous, proud tree; it was now lying on the ground, apparently having been used as some sort of club, by the sound of things.

Ren forced himself to move, to back away slowly. As soon as his foot shifted, however, the _Iehkti'na_ roared. Apart from the dying scream of the _Iehkti'na _that Maho had barbecued in the second ring, he had never heard any of the nightmares making any kind of noise – something which he had thought odd. He probably should have been grateful for it, he realised now, stumbling backwards with his hands over his ears. While the cry of the dying nightmare had been horrific in its own way, this sound was completely different. It was infinitely louder, shaking the entire world with its volume; it was like a ghastly, otherworldly amalgamation of the soundtrack to every bad dream he had ever had.

The sound spurred him into motion again – or perhaps it was the shockwaves from the sound itself, he thought – and he dashed out of the tent. The huge nightmare followed him, tearing the tent apart, crushing tables under its feet and scattering piles of paperwork like a flock of startled Wingull. Ren ran down the side of the hill, only realising halfway down that he was heading directly for a far larger host of nightmares. He came to a halt at the bottom of the hill amongst the panicked members of the Tactical Division, who were milling around in various states of confusion. Cicero was standing a few metres away from him, trying to restore order, but he was evidently having little success.

The _Iehkti'na _juggernaut slowed its pace as it reached the top of the slope, gazing down upon the battle. Behind it, more of its brethren stalked forward, halting at the top of the hill just behind their leader. Ren shivered. What had happened to the fighters that Cicero had supposedly dispatched to cover the rear?

By this point, those holding back the waves of _Iehkti'na_ coming from the front had realised the situation. They backed up and tightened their ranks, the flanks of the line moving around to close the circle around Ren, Cicero and the rest of those who could not fight for themselves. Ren looked around in horror as the horde of nightmares pressed forward, surrounding them on all sides. They stayed just out of reach of the spirits' weapons, although archers continued to send volleys into their ranks. Ignoring the arrows, the _Iehkti'na_ stood silently, as if waiting for orders.

"Suddenly this doesn't look so good," Ren muttered. They were completely surrounded. On one side was the shallow incline of the hill, blocked by the crowd of large nightmares that Ren and Cecilia had encountered in the Glade. On every other side was a sea of black, shifting and rippling like grass in the breeze – dark, hideous, polluted grass.

"You'll be fine," said a curt voice from beside him. Ren jumped.

"Elly!"

"The one and only," she said. "What's your point?"

"Nothing," Ren said. "But, well . . . you look like hell. Are you all right?" Her hair had come out of her ponytail, and it was matted with blood – a purplish colour, Ren noticed. Her leather suit was torn and covered in burn marks, and several of the dangling buckles had been sliced off. There was a long cut running down the length of her left arm, leaking violet blood down onto her hand. In her right hand, she held her sword, dull with smoke and dirt.

"Why wouldn't I be all right?" she snapped. "I can look after myself, unlike some people! Why are you here, anyway? Didn't I tell you to stay with Cecilia in the Glade?"

Ren sighed. "Yes, but . . . oh, just look for yourself. You see those ones up on the hill, right?"

"Of course! I'm not blind! Hang on, do you mean to say . . ." A look of horror crossed her face.

"Ah, there it is," Ren said wryly.

"That's impossible! They couldn't have come from the Glade! The Spirit Wall keeps out _all_ of the _Iehkti'na_!"

"Well, it seems those guys didn't get the memo," Ren said with a shrug. "And besides, when was the last time any of them got _to_ the Spirit Wall to prove it? My impression was that they didn't know where you were."

Ellie growled something incomprehensible, sticking her sword in the ground and tying her hair back out of her face again with a piece of string. When she took the blade up again, she spun it around in a wide arc that came dangerously close to Ren's head before resting it casually on her shoulder as if it were a baseball bat.

He ducked with a surprised yelp. "Hey! Watch where you're spinning that thing!"

She glanced over at him as if she had entirely forgotten he was there. "Wouldn't have hit you even if you hadn't moved," she said casually. "Do you take me for a fool?"

"Um-"

"_Do you, Ren?" _She glared at him.

"No?" he tried.

"Good. Now, I want you to stay here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ren said ruefully, gesturing around at the hordes of nightmares standing impassively on all sides.

"Dumbass. I meant stay _right here_ where none of the bastards can get you. You've killed one, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to kill another one, never mind the dozens you'll find yourself up against if you try and put yourself on the front line. So you will stay here with Cicero and the rest of the First Division, and you will pray to whatever deity you believe in that we get out of this alive."

For a moment, Ren considered passing a snide comment on how obviously worried she was, but the look in her eyes told him it would be a very bad idea. Instead, he simply nodded and said, "I will. Good luck."

Elly snorted with laughter as she walked off to take her place in the circle. "There's no such thing as luck."

"Suit yourself," Ren said quietly before moving closer to the centre of the group.

"Oh, splendid, you're all right," said Cicero, who had apparently not noticed him. "That's good, I don't know what we'd do without you. Unfortunately, it looks like we've been reduced to unnecessary baggage, you and I."

"What, really?" Ren said, slipping slightly as he took up a position next to the General. The ground at the base of the hill had been churned into mud by the hundreds of feet battling back and forth across it. "Don't you have, you know, commanding to do?"

Cicero sighed regretfully, brushing a clod of dirt off his otherwise pristine white toga. "Unfortunately, my boy, we find ourselves in a position where tactics and strategy are all but useless. For one thing, I have no better a view of the battlefield than any other from this vantage point. For another, we are entirely surrounded, and the only thing for it is to fight until the end . . . whatever that end may be. I do not believe we will lose this battle, but I am somewhat unnerved. The _Iehkti'na_ are behaving awfully strangely today. They suddenly ceased their attack, which is unheard of. They are mindless beasts that exist only to kill and cause chaos, and as such they have no form of order or hierarchy that we know of. Until today, we had no evidence of any kind of leadership or organised army, but suddenly . . . if this keeps up, I may have to rethink my entire method of doing battle," he mused.

Ren blinked. The man sure could talk.

There was a stir to Ren's left, and he glanced quickly across to the hill. The enormous, three-eyed nightmare had taken a step down the hill, followed by three of the others that stood with him: one that looked like a giant spider with far too many legs, one quadruped with short, stumpy limbs and a flat head, and a curious, floating clot of blackness that Ren didn't remember seeing at the Glade. All four had the same burning green eyes.

The ground shook when they walked.

Weapons at the ready, every warrior in the circle fixed their eyes on these four behemoths. Their progress was slow but steady, their rumbling footsteps the only sound on the enormous, grassy plain. Ren held his breath, feeling sweat trickle down his cheek. The four nightmares exuded an intangible pressure that seemed to crush his will to stand upright. He struggled to retain control of his legs, suddenly more terrified than he had ever been in his life. He knew without being told that he was witnessing a momentous occasion in history, even if he had no idea what was going to happen.

Near the bottom of the hill, the four nightmares stopped again. They stood, elevated above the spirits, as if to convince them of their superiority. It was unnecessary, Ren thought wryly. Their leader seemed to have grown even further since Ren had encountered it in the Glade. _Eight metres? Ten?_

Ren shivered, suddenly aware of how cold he was, despite the sun that shone brightly over the battlefield. He could smell blood tinged with ash.

The leading nightmare lifted an enormous, shadowy hand and spoke in a deep, rumbling voice that seemed to shake the very air it passed through. Ren heard spirits around him let out gasps of surprise as the creature's words rippled through the air, laden with power.

Listening intently, Ren realised he couldn't understand a word. The nightmare was speaking the spirits' language, by the sound of it. He supposed it made sense – the _Iehkti'na_ would have had no reason to learn his language.

"What did it say?" Ren hissed to Cicero when the nightmare fell silent after a few seconds.

Cicero seemed to have been drained of all his energy. He stared at the creature open-mouthed, his hands listless at his sides.

Ren repeated the question, more insistently this time.

Cicero jerked as if suddenly woken from a comfortable sleep. "I-it said . . ." He stopped, gulped and started again. "It was speaking a very old form of our language said . . . 'You who oppose all that we are, know this: my name is Nekros, and I am thy end.' I . . . I didn't even think they were capable of speaking."

Ren suddenly recalled his experience in the second ring the previous night. _Bad dreams?_, the nightmare had whispered to him as he had struggled desperately against it. What had that been about? How had it spoken to him?

A sharp, clear voice rang out from somewhere on the circle. Elly, speaking in the same tongue that Nekros had. She sounded angry, and Ren didn't suppose he could blame her.

"You are not our end," Cicero translated in a whisper. "You are only another of those who foolishly seek to destroy us. We have never given in to your kind before, and we will not start now."

Nekros laughed, a deep, guttural sound that made the cold sweat on Ren's brow break out anew. He then spoke again at some length, to which Elly replied instantly and furiously. This went back and forth for some time, the attention of every being on the plain focused entirely on the two.

"Ah, basically . . . Nekros is demanding that we surrender and allow ourselves to be killed, and Felicia is refusing outright, demanding instead that they leave." Cicero paused as Nekros spoke again. "He says . . . 'We shall withdraw for today. Take this as a warning for how simply thou art undone. If we were to make ultimate war this day, you would undoubtedly fall, but we wish to lose as few of our brethren as is possible. We shall consolidate our strength, and next time, thou shalt fall to a man.'"

Ren shuddered. The threat seemed quite valid, considering the vast army of nightmares surrounding the spirits. "Do you think-" he began, but was cut off by Cicero as Nekros spoke again.

"He's talking about you!" the General muttered, pushing Ren behind him with one hand.

"What? What's he saying?"

"He says he knows you are here, and he wishes you to be aware that you would be spared. Because the Soul Bonds are weak, he would allow you to live, entering the world of dreams each night to renew them, then returning home in peace. He . . . urges you to accept, saying that . . . they would meddle less with you than we do." Cicero's face twisted in disgust. Elly interrupted Nekros at this point, her voice rising almost to a shriek. "And Miss Darkstorm . . ." Cicero said weakly.

". . . is being Miss Darkstorm," Ren finished. "Yep. Let me guess – it's something along the lines of 'Go to hell!', right?"

"Pretty much," Cicero agreed. "A little more polite, but not much."

With one final, parting rumble, Nekros stepped off the hill and past the spirits, his far less humanoid cronies trailing behind him. They were followed by the rest of the small force that had been waiting at the top of the hill. The ranks of the smaller _Iehkti'na_ parted for them as they passed, joining back up in their wake and following them away. The spirits watched cautiously as the mass of nightmares receded, drawing back from the circle and moving away in silence. Nobody moved for nearly ten minutes, until the last of the black wave disappeared over a ridge in the distance and fell out of sight.

As if in response to an invisible, inaudible signal, every warrior in the circle relaxed, weapons dropping to the ground in a chorus of _thuds_ that made Ren flinch. Several of them dropped to the ground; all of them shared the same blank, stunned look that Ren was sure must be evident on his own face. Their expressions, though, were tinged with a stronger kind of disbelief. Looking around, Ren saw a proud, strong people who had just been essentially handed their own heads on a platter.

There seemed to be an unspoken acknowledgement in the air as everybody silently moved back towards the forest. Not a word was spoken as Ren followed them to the top of the hill; as he put his back in and helped them push the fallen tree off several of their number; as the wounded were picked up and carried back through the forest; as the spirits of the Glade retreated, largely unscathed but undoubtedly beaten. They all stared straight ahead, seeming not to see what was in front of them. There was no hurry, no sense of urgency. They simply walked, a macabre, depressed parade winding through the forest.

At the edge of the Glade of Shifting Light, just inside the Spirit Wall, he was stopped by a gentle hand on his chest. He paused and glanced at the one who had blocked him. It was Salinthia, her deep purple robe torn and grimy. He opened his mouth to speak, but she just shook her head, a sad look in her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, she opened a portal to the second ring, the now familiar sonic _boom_ rocking him slightly with its force.

_Is it safe?_ Ren wondered, giving Salinthia a questioning look.

She simply blinked slowly at him, her hazel eyes abnormally lifeless. Taking that as a yes, he gave her a final nod – how he wished, all of a sudden, to say something to comfort her and all the others – and reached a hand out, allowing himself to be sucked into the portal. The last thing he saw before the rushing darkness overtook his vision was Elly watching him from some distance away, her usually sharp green eyes dull with confusion.

The second ring wavered as Ren slipped silently into it. He stood on the platform at the Rustboro station, eerily alone. Taking a deep breath, he sat down on the very same bench he had occupied earlier with Natasha.

"That was weird," he said aloud, his voice echoing around the empty station. "I thought things were weird enough as it was, but this is just going too far." He had a sinking feeling that he had become involved in something far more serious than he ever could have imagined. Of course, that had been his exact mindset when he had found out about the world of dreams to begin with, but this . . . this was a whole new level.

The worst part, he reflected, was how the spirits had reacted. His brief experience in the world of dreams had painted them as indomitable, indefatigable beings of power and mystery. They had seemed indestructible, invincible, and so very sure of themselves, and yet . . .

Yet there they were. He had been there – it had all seemed so surreal, but he had been there nonetheless. He knew he had witnessed history; from the sound of it, it was the first time the spirits had suffered a defeat at the hands of the _Iehkti'na._

It seemed to have been a day of firsts. The first time the spirits had lost, the first time the _Iehkti'na_ had spoken, the first time they had displayed any kind of intelligence, the first time Elly's sparkling green eyes had dulled.

Ren could barely imagine what Elly must have been feeling. That brief glimpse of her as he slipped through the portal had told him so much, and yet so little. He had seen confusion, stunned disbelief and a kind of blank anger. The worst thing, though, was the emotion that he was not even sure he had seen at all. Had there been fear in her eyes? He hoped that he had been mistaken; if even Elly – wild, fiery, fearless Elly – saw reason to be afraid, then he didn't think he would be able to cope with the coming nights.

A patch of darkness caught his eye, flat upon one of the pillars supporting the massive vaulted ceiling. Deciding he should wake up sooner rather than later, Ren stood up and walked towards it, watching it grow as he approached. By the time he reached it, it was roughly the size and shape of a door. As soon as his foot brushed it, he found himself on the other side, stepping _out_ of a pillar, once again in the darkened, concrete jungle he had shared with Afro Glameow earlier in that same dream.

"_Seems like such a long time ago," he says, glancing around. Thankfully, Afro Glameow is nowhere to be seen. His leg isn't bleeding either, for which he is extremely grateful._

_Before he can even wonder where he is, though, he feels the world slipping away, going hazy and disappearing rapidly into the distance. "What . . ."_

"What?" he groaned. His cheeks were burning, and he automatically lifted his hands to rub at them.

"Wake up, Ren!" Natasha said insistently, pinching his cheeks with finger and thumb.

"Awake, 'm awake," he grumbled, sitting up with a yawn and just about falling off his seat as the train jerked slightly. "Whoa!"

"Jeez! Finally! You slept for just about the whole way!" Natasha pouted, folding her arms as she sat back down.

"Sorry," he said weakly, rubbing his left ear, which was numb from being crushed against the back of the seat. "You weren't bored, were you?"

"Of course I was bored, genius! I finished my book and started on yours," she said, waving both paperbacks under his nose.

"You're a fast reader," he said admiringly, checking his watch. One twenty-three; they were due to arrive in Slateport in a few minutes.

"Not really," she said. "They're not very big books, and I had all that time at the station too."

"Right," he said distractedly, trying to bring himself back to terms with the real world – no, not the real world, he reminded himself. The world of dreams was just as real – or, at the very least, just as important._ And besides, Elly will probably hit me if I say otherwise. If . . . if she . . ._ It suddenly occurred to Ren that Elly might not even feel up to chewing him out that night. The thought was somehow more shocking than anything else that had crossed his mind since the battle.

Just a few minutes later, the train pulled smoothly into Slateport Station. Natasha spotted her parents through the window and dashed off ahead of Ren, leaving him to filter out with the crowd like a zombie, head down and arms listlessly clutching his bag. He felt a tiny share of the spirits' pain just then, and for a moment he was back in the forest of the third ring, slowly wending his way through the trees again.

But then he saw his uncle and aunt on the platform, happily receiving Natasha's enthusiastic hugs, and he forced himself to look up again, taking a deep breath of that peculiar air you could only find in the railway station of a seaside city – brine, metal and oil. He was home. This was where he belonged.

That knowledge made him feel a little better as he plastered a smile on his face and went to greet Roger and Mary.


	17. As Long As I Live

**A/N: **...We've got some catching up to do.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

_As Long As I Live_

"You sure you don't want to come back to our place for lunch, Ren?" Aunt Mary asked. "It's not like it's any trouble. We love having you."

"No, thanks," Ren said. "Maybe some other time, but for now . . . I need to go back and see my mom. I left all of a sudden yesterday morning, and, well . . . you know how she is."

"I do indeed," Uncle Roger chuckled. "I grew up with her, after all. Well, if that's the case, I'm afraid it can't be helped. I'm sure she's really looking forward to spending some time with you, Mr. Prodigal Son. We'll have you both round our place some time. I'll see if your aunt Mabel can make it as well. Heaven forbid, we might even get your father in next time he's in town."

Ren smiled, although it felt a little forced, even to him. "Sure, that'd be nice. We haven't all gotten together like that since Christmas when I was, what . . . eight?" _And I haven't seen Dad for three years_, he added silently.

He took his leave quickly, promising Natasha that yes, she could keep the books. Despite the fact that there was no train to catch at his destination this time, he hurried along the coast road up to his house with all the speed he could muster.

"I'm home!" he called loudly as he pushed the door open.

"Oh? Sweetie, you didn't call ahead!" his mother called out from somewhere within the house.

"Um . . . surprise?" he tried, following the sound of her voice to the study at the back of the house.

She looked up with a smile when he entered. "It's good to have you back, honey," she said. "How long do you think you'll be home this time?"

Ren's own smile faltered slightly. "I have to be at a contest in Mauville on Thursday," he told her, remembering the fact suddenly. "And Steven said somebody would be in touch with me to talk about other things. But at the moment, I'm free until then."

"You'd better not have anything happening on your birthday," she said seriously, shuffling some papers and slotting them into the filing cabinet. "You keep next Sunday clear, okay?"

"I'll do my best, Mom," he said. "What are you working on at the moment, by the way?" he asked, gesturing to the papers strewn around the computer.

"Just an article for the Mauville Mirror," she said dismissively, sweeping it all to one side. "Leader Wattson's making moves to have New Mauville open by the end of the year, and he wants some coverage and publicity for that."

"New Mauville? That's the power plant they're building up on Route 110, isn't it?"

"Yes, but never mind that now," she said. "Have you had lunch, sweetie? It's nearly two o'clock."

Ren's stomach growled a negative. "I . . . don't think I had breakfast, either," he admitted, suddenly realising his neglect. Katrina had taken Natasha to get something while he and Steven were talking, but for his part, Ren had entirely forgotten to eat.

"That's bad for you, you know," she scolded. "Come on, I'll fix you something." She hustled him out of the study and back down the hallway to the kitchen. Ren instinctively looked up at the ceiling, half-expecting to see his own footprints there, but made himself bring his eyes back down to earth straight away. It wasn't the time to be thinking about that.

He tried to help, but his mother shooed him back to the table, claiming he would just get in her way. Knowing better than to be hurt, he sat himself down and watched as she fried up what looked to be leftover mashed potato from a bowl she had whipped out of the fridge. The generous knob of butter she had dropped into the pan sizzled wildly, sending a simple yet reassuring aroma spiralling through the room.

"You always overestimate how much potato you need, don't you?" he said, slightly amused.

"Always," she admitted. "There's always at least a full serving left over, no matter how many people I'm cooking for."

"And you always used to fry it up for me just like this," Ren said quietly, casting his gaze out the window. "Especially on Sundays. I'd spend all morning out goofing around with Tim, Cole and Natasha . . ."

"But you'd always come home at one o'clock sharp," she reminisced.

"That's because Saturday always seemed to be sausages and mash night," Ren chuckled, watching a Pelipper wing its way slowly through the sky, a small flock of Wingull trailing behind it. Right there, in the familiar open-plan kitchen that he had eaten in every day for ten years, he finally felt like he had come home. Very little had changed. The same magnets were still stuck to the fridge, colourful letters and numbers that still spelled out 'Happy 10th Birthday, Ren'. A slight ache pierced his heart to see that.

"It always was," his mother said with a smile, heaping the crispy mash onto a plate and drizzling it generously with tomato sauce, just as she had always done for him before he had left. "There you go, sport."

Ren took the plate gratefully, swearing under his breath as he realised how hot it was. He hurriedly set it down on the table with a clatter and reached for a fork from the drawer behind him, swinging his chair back onto two legs as he did so. His mother scowled but passed no comment.

Ren fell silent as he ate, realising just how hungry he was. His mother poured them each a glass of orange juice and sat opposite him to drink hers. "You always used to do that, too," he noted between mouthfuls.

She shrugged lightly. "Old habits die hard. I sat here with my orange juice every Sunday for the last five years, waiting for you to come home so I could share it with you again." Her voice was airy and unconcerned, but her eyes betrayed her.

Ren put his fork down and reached across the table to take her hand. She flinched a little, but quickly wrapped her fingers around his own. They were small, he noticed. Back when he was a kid, his mom's hands had always seemed so big and warm and strong, enveloping his own little hands entirely and making him feel safe. They were still warm, but they were about the same size as his own now. He could only wonder how long it would be before hers were the hands that disappeared under his.

She glanced up into his eyes. "Ren, you . . ."

He saw with a shock that there were tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "Do you remember what we used to do after lunch on Sundays?" he asked, his voice quiet but forceful.

She nodded silently, the motion causing the tears to slip out of her eyes and run down her cheeks. Ren stood up and walked around the table, an action complicated by the fact that she refused to release his hand. "We always walked down to the little park on Seaboard Avenue, remember?" he said, pulling up another chair so he could sit next to her. "You'd sit and watch while I played on the swings or the slide."

"You loved that slide," she said, her voice wobbling slightly.

"I did," he said. "It was so big and red. Is that park still there? It didn't get turned into an apartment building or anything, did it?" A shake of the head was his only answer, so he continued, "I think we should go down there, then."

"Now?"

"Of course. Come on, Mom," he said with a smile, standing up and gently tugging at her hand. "Let's go to the park."

She didn't move for several seconds. When she did, it was to stand up and wrap her arms around Ren. Slightly taken aback, but quietly pleased nonetheless, he returned the embrace, feeling for the first time just how very small and frail she was.

When she finally let him go, her eyes were clear and she was smiling, although Ren sensed it was more than a little forced. "Right," she said. "To the park it is."

The park was a half-hour's walk away on a good day, but Ren was in no hurry. He walked side by side with his mother, just as had always used to. After a few minutes of silence, she slipped her hand into his again, entwining her fingers with his as if seeking support. He smiled indulgently.

"You don't mind, do you?" she asked. "You're not too old to hold your mom's hand, are you?"

"Of course not," he said.

They walked in silence along the coast road for another five minutes, feeling the brisk sea breeze rushing and dancing along the cliff. Bird Pokemon chirped and squawked from hidden nests above and below them, and there were a few dozen boats on the harbour below, specks of white against a shimmering blue curtain.

"Your father called last night."

Ren looked at his mother, suddenly a little worried. "What did he want?" he asked, making sure to keep his voice light.

"He told me that he wanted to see us," she said, so quietly that Ren had to strain to hear her. "Well, mostly you, I suppose."

"I haven't seen him since my trip to Unova three years ago," Ren reflected. "Why does he suddenly want to see us now?"

"He . . . got married in spring last year."

"What? Why didn't you tell me? For that matter, why didn't he?"

"He asked me not to. I've got no idea why, but I guess that's something you can ask him."

"Is he coming back here?" Ren asked. "He hasn't made a business trip for a while."

"No, he wants us to go there. To Lacunosa. He has a house out there with his new wife and her daughter."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Ren said, taken aback. "Her daughter? So does that mean I have a . . . step-sister now? I've had a step-sister and a stepmother for nearly a _year_ and I didn't know about it? For that matter, do they still count as step-whatevers if Dad doesn't have custody of me?"

"I don't know, Ren," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but . . . he made it very clear that it was essential you didn't know. I thought he was planning to surprise you or something, but last night he asked me to tell you, so I . . . I just don't know, Ren. He didn't even tell _me_ about it until a couple of months ago."

"He likes his secrets, doesn't he?" Ren pondered, shaking his head. "But still, Unova! Are we going to go? I don't really know if I have time for a holiday right now."

"That's exactly what your father thought," she said, "so he made a suggestion and asked that you run it by the people at the League. The Unova Conference is happening in a couple of weeks, so he thought you could come out for that. It's being held in Opelucid, which isn't far from Lacunosa, and it's apparently not uncommon for Champions to sit in on the Conferences of other regions."

"I guess that could work . . ." Ren said slowly.

"Do you want to go, honey?" she asked, turning to look into his eyes. "I mean, it's up to you. If you don't really want to go, I can just call him back and say you're already booked. I won't make you go if you're not comfortable with it."

"I do want to . . . I mean, I think I do. Can I think about it for a while?"

"Of course you can, sweetie," she said, squeezing his hand. "Let's just get to that park before sunset, huh?"

Outwardly, Ren smiled, but on the inside he couldn't help but feel a little upset. _Dad never told me he was even thinking about getting married . . . he called twice a month for the last few years, and he didn't mention it once. What kind of crap is that? I don't know if I can deal with all this as well as the _yehktira_ thing. It's all happening at once. Why is it all coming on so suddenly?_ It was as if he were suddenly drowning in various responsibilities and expectations. Champion, _yehktira_ and now stepson? Step-brother?

The park was almost exactly the same as he remembered it. The grass was a little longer, the creaky swingset a little rustier, and the bright red paint on the slide a little flakier, but none of it made the slightest difference to Ren. It was as if he was nine years old again. He saw himself scrambling up the ladder and almost tumbling off the slide in his haste to get down it. He saw himself standing up on the swing despite his mother's insistence he sit down, swinging higher and higher until he felt sure he would fall off.

"Been a while, huh?" he said. The park was deserted but for the two of them.

"Five years."

"Hmm." Making up his mind, Ren crossed to the slide and pulled himself up the ladder, feeling the rough, rusty texture of the bars under his fingers. At the top, he slotted himself awkardly into the plastic half-tube, his hips almost too wide to fit. He slid down a lot more slowly than he remembered, coming to a stop at the bottom without shooting off the end.

"Bit different now, hmm?" his mother said, sitting down on one of the ancient, creaky swings that sat adjacent to the slide.

". . . Yeah."

Ren's Pokenav blipped loudly from his pocket, causing him to sigh.

"Answer it, sweetie," his mother said with a little smile.

"But this is-"

"It's probably important. Go on."

With an apologetic nod, Ren pulled the little red device out and pressed the answer key, standing up and walking a short distance away to take the call.

"Hello?" he said, hearing the tiredness in his own voice as he spoke.

"Mr. Goodwin?"

"Yes . . ."

"My name is Gerard Etois. I work for the Pokemon League."

"Oh, are you the one that Steven said would be calling?"

"Yes," said Gerard. "I'm glad he informed you of that, for it makes my job somewhat easier. As Mr. Stone may have mentioned, I will be in charge of coordinating your schedule for the duration of your tenure as Champion. Do you have time to discuss this now?"

"Um . . ." Ren glanced over at his mother, sitting alone on the swings, her wavy brown hair swaying in the breeze as she watched him talking. "Not _really_ . . . Would it be possible for you to just give me a brief overview of what's going on in the next few weeks?"

"That's wonderful," Gerard said, although he didn't sound particularly excited. "So . . . Mr. Stone has suggested you attend the Mauville Pokemon Contest on Thursday, correct?"

"Yes, he has."

"Well, I've just spoken with the organisers, and they'd be delighted to have you as a guest. They've also asked if you'd like to compete. Would you be interested?"

"I've . . . never participated in a Contest before," Ren said, suddenly very worried. "I wouldn't have any idea how."

"Still, I think it would be a good idea if you did," Gerard pressed. "It would emphasise your support of the Contest programme, to be sure."

"I don't think so," Ren said firmly, somewhat taken aback by Gerard's insistence. He relented slightly, though. "Well, not this time, at least. I'll watch the contest on Thursday, and that might allow me to learn something to apply in the future. I'd be lying if I said Contests were something I'd ever thought seriously about participating in, but I suppose it could be interesting."

"That sounds like a splendid compromise," Gerard said, sounding quite pleased with himself. "We'll try to get you participating in Contests within a couple of months. I'll call the Mauville committee later this afternoon to inform them. But before that . . . there's a festival going on in Fortree City on Tuesday which I think you'd enjoy."

"A festival? What would that involve?" Ren asked suspiciously.

"Nothing too taxing, I promise," said Gerard, sounding faintly amused. "You would spend the day participating in the activities, perhaps give a speech or two, and generally be seen to be involved in the culture. The local radio station is interested in interviewing you as well, I hear. But on the whole, it should be fairly relaxing, in fact."

"Sounds good," Ren said. It did, actually. He had liked Fortree City a lot when he had passed through about a year and a half earlier, and he had been keen to return for some time. Speeches and radio interviews would have to be dealt with when they came about. "Anything else on?"

"Well, on Thursday you have the Contest – that will just be a day trip, of course – and then on Sunday-"

"Sunday's out," said Ren abruptly. He shot another quick glance across to the swings and was rewarded with a smile and a thumbs-up. Feeling emboldened, he continued. "It's my fifteenth birthday, and I'm planning on spending it at home. I'd really rather not do anything unless I absolutely have to."

"Well, ah . . . you see, Richard Andrews has indicated that yesterday's episode of _Hoenn Buzz_ was extremely well received, and he would like to have you back for his Sunday slot next week, where he can talk with you in a lot more depth. He'd really love to do it as a follow-up episode."

"I . . . I can't. I liked Richard, but I really can't. Would it be possible to do it the week after?"

"Ah. Now, that poses a bit of a problem," Gerard said slowly. "You see, the following weekend is the Unova League Conference, and we were thinking of sending you as an ambassador for the Hoenn League."

"Oh." Ren's stomach dropped about a foot. On the one hand, it fit perfectly with his father's plan to bring him over to Unova – almost _too_ perfectly, he thought briefly. On the other hand, it gave him one less excuse to get out of something which he was growing less and less sure he wanted to do. There was no real reason for his apprehension, he had to admit – it wasn't as if he didn't get along with his father.

"Mr. Goodwin?"

"Ah, right. Um . . ." _Sometimes you have to make choices that determine the future at the drop of a hat. _It was ironic, Ren thought wryly, that it was his father's words that came back to him at a time like this. It seemed that they were becoming relevant more and more frequently in recent times, though, and he knew he would have to go with it. "I'll . . . I'll do it," he said.

"You will? Good, good. I was a little worried that you wouldn't be up to it, being as new to this whole business as you are."

"I've travelled before," Ren said. "I've been to Unova a few times, too – I was born there, actually, though I don't remember much of that time. Besides, my father lives there at the moment, so I imagine I'll be meeting up with him at some stage. I think I'll be all right." He really hoped that he would be. It was intimidating enough having to go along to the Unova Conference without even taking his new stepmother and step-sister into consideration.

"I'm glad to hear it," Gerard said. "Having a Champion familiar with the region as our ambassador will be good. But this still leaves us with the problem of what to do about _Hoenn Buzz_. Of course, we can do it after you return, but it really would be better to get it done sooner rather than later. I'll speak to Richard Andrews about that and get back to you tomorrow, or later tonight if possible."

"All right," said Ren. "Is there anything else on? Before I go to Unova, that is."

"Well . . . the Tuesday before the Unova League, there is a tag battle tournament going on in your hometown of Slateport. Would you like to take part?"

"Tag battles? That sounds like fun. I haven't had much experience battling with a partner, though."

"Well, you might learn something, then," Gerard said genially. "I'll contact the organisers and have them enter you. Well, I think that's all for now – I'll call you back tomorrow afternoon to arrange transport and the like, seeing as you seem to be a little busy right now."

"All right, then. Thank you, Mr. Etois," Ren said, stumbling slightly over the pronunciation of the unfamiliar name. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodbye, Mr. Goodwin." There was a click, and the line fell silent.

Ren slowly folded up the Pokenav and slotted it back into his pocket, moving back over to sit on the end of the slide again. "It looks like I'm pretty busy over the next couple of weeks," he said quietly, picking at a loose flake of paint on the edge of the slide.

There was no answer for several seconds, so he tried again. "It also looks like we're going to Unova to see Dad."

"I guess we are," his mother said, her voice equally quiet.

"Are you . . . all right with that?" Ren asked, rising from the slide and crossing to sit beside her on the other swing hanging from the ancient frame. "I mean, I kind of decided that a bit quickly."

"No, that's fine. I guess I was just . . . surprised."

"By what?" Ren asked.

"Well . . . by you, I suppose. You've . . . grown up a lot in the last few years. I haven't seen you very much, and every time you come back you seem different somehow. This time, though, it's like . . . like you've reached a certain point. It's almost like you're an adult now. My little boy disappeared when he went off on his tenth birthday, and I've never seen him since."

Ren didn't know quite what to say. "I . . . it's still me, you know. I think it's pretty understandable that I'd have changed, though. I mean, I don't see it myself, but I guess in five years you'd change a bit." The words sounded hollow even as he said them; he wondered exactly who he was supposed to be reassuring.

Silence fell for almost a minute. Ren let the swing rock back and forth a little, his toes dragging in the bark on the ground beneath. The trees lining the park rustled gently as a salty breeze blew in from the sea. Tucked into a large niche in the cliff – not unlike the one that Ren's house stood in – the park afforded a splendid view of the ocean and the sky above it, but Ren's eyes reached beyond the horizon. In that quiet moment, he looked out and saw the vast expanse of the universe. He didn't know how much of the vision was his imagination and how much he was actually seeing, but the sheer scale of the cosmos took him aback. There were huge, dark things out there, perfect black against imperfect colour, frightening in their size and omnipotence.

Then he blinked, and he saw only the ocean. He looked back around, at the bark and grass beneath his feet, the trees surrounding him on three sides, and finally back at his mother, sitting on the swing next to him with a strange half-smile on her face.

"You all right, sweetie?" she said. "You look a little pale."

"No, I'm fine," he said. "Just a little tired." He couldn't help but wonder if that was a side-effect of his adventures in the world of dreams. It certainly seemed that he had been exceedingly tired today – but then again, he considered, it might just be the fact that he had finally come to the end of his journey. His life over the last five years had been so unbearably busy that it might well have simply caught up to him.

"Maybe you should have an early night tonight, love. Do you have anything on tomorrow?"

"No," Ren said, not without relief. "Nothing, actually. Tuesday I'm in Fortree for a festival, Thursday I'm in Mauville for a Contest, and then the next Tuesday is the tag battle tournament in town."

"Oh, I think I saw that in the paper. I'll come along and watch you. But it seems you have quite a bit of free time before we go to Unova."

"Yeah, that'll be nice," Ren said, nodding. "Say, when are we going to leave for Unova? The Conference is on over the weekend, but . . ."

"We should probably try and get there by the Thursday, actually. That'll give us some time to spend in Lacunosa with your father before everything starts."

Ren didn't say anything for a few seconds. Somehow, it seemed there was nothing he _could_ say. At length, he stood up and took a few steps away from the swing. "Let's go home," he said at last. _Let's go home and watch TV and have dinner and go to bed and pretend I'm a normal kid_, he added silently, but didn't dare say it out loud.


	18. Peace

**Chapter Eighteen**

_Peace_

As he lay awake in bed that night, it occurred to Ren that the issue of Nekros and the events of his last visit to the world of dreams had barely crossed his mind all afternoon. _How is that even possible?_ he wondered, staring up at the ceiling of his darkened room. _Here's me trying to think what might happen when I go in this time, __but I've hardly even considered what happened last time._

It had been dancing at the back of his mind for the last few hours, he knew, but it had been difficult to reach for it and bring it to the fore. It wasn't like he couldn't bring it to the front of his mind; it was more like it preferred to stay in the background. It was only now, as he waited for sleep to claim him, that it leapt forth and demanded his attention.

Then again, he reasoned, there was nothing he could really do about it. He briefly considered calling Steven and telling him. Would the ex-Champion be able to help him? He doubted it. He had the strangest feeling that Nekros had not shown its face – or what passed for one – before. The spirits had certainly not seemed to recognise it, and he was sure that Steven would not have neglected to mention something so major had he known about it.

Ren suddenly felt very much alone. He couldn't go to Steven for help. Even if his predecessor _had_ somehow known about Nekros, he doubted there would be anything that Steven could have done to help him. As it was, there would be no help forthcoming. What did he expect Steven to do, really? Somehow charge into the world of dreams and valiantly slay the beast? No, he had to deal with it by himself.

His fingers brushed the Dreamlight, still lying on his chest, an impossibly delicate silver carving that glinted in the low light. _What _am_ I supposed to do?_ The same question chased itself around his head for a good half an hour before his tiredness finally caught up with him.

_Afro Glameow is nowhere to be seen. That's reassuring. Ren glances around. He's in the jungle of concrete pillars again. Now that he's not running for his life, though, he realises it's an overpass. An overpass of monolithic, impossible size, to be sure, but there's no doubting what it is. The rumbling noise is the sound of hundreds of cars passing over his head, and the light glaring distantly at him from both sides is just sunlight, doing its level best to penetrate the gloom under the road._

_He looks around and promptly spots the portal to the second ring; it has the appearance of a deep square hole set into one of the pillars near him. Looking suspiciously around, Ren wonders if Afro Glameow is lying in wait for him somewhere nearby. When there is still no sign of his feline nemesis, however, he shrugs and reaches for the portal. With a familiar yank, he is sucked into it, his entire body somehow telescoping and packing itself into the small space._

When he regained his sense of balance, Ren found himself once again in the park, looking out over Slateport Bay. The sky was overcast, however, casting unfortunate shadows on the scene. The sun peeked valiantly out from behind a cloud to the west, though, its height telling him that it was about three in the afternoon. Just as it occurred to him that there seemed to be nobody around, a voice spoke from behind him.

"_Yehktira_."

He turned to see Salinthia, of all people, sitting on one of the swings. She was wearing casual clothes that would not have looked out of place in any city in Hoenn, which Ren found odd. The puffy, sleeveless jacket, faded grey T-shirt and slim black jeans made her look a lot younger – not that appearances made any difference when it came to age, he reminded himself wryly. "Hey, Salinthia," he said quietly, dropping himself into the other swing, much as he had done that very same afternoon. He was beginning to get used to seeing the day's locations floating around in the second ring, but it was no less unnerving to find himself sitting in exactly the same place as he had been earlier. It was like a weird sense of deja vu. "What's . . . happening in the third ring?"

She sighed deeply, refusing to meet his curious eyes. "Four of our number fell in the battle yesterday. One of those who were crushed under the tree that Nekros uprooted succumbed to his injuries after being brought back to the Glade. Nekros also killed two more of that rearguard, and they died on the spot. So did the poor girl who was overwhelmed by the _Iehkti'na_ horde in the preceding battle."

"Oh," Ren said. He wanted to make some comment, to offer some small measure of comfort, but there were no words. He was so far out of his depth that he could only barely begin to grasp the magnitude of the situation.

"Four might seem like very few, especially considering the number of beasts we slew today, but . . ."

"'No men have fallen in battle since the great wars of the early days'," Ren quoted, remembering something he had read in Maho's workshop.

"I see you've been doing your homework," Salinthia said, a slight tinge of bitter humour colouring her voice.

"I did a little bit of reading," Ren admitted. "But, uh . . . what happens now?"

"Nothing," Salinthia said. "We wait. Maho and the rest of us in the Magical Division are working hard to try and reinforce the Spirit Wall, as well as determining how it failed. The others can only wait. I hope you take no offense, Ren, but we think it would be best if you did not enter the third ring tonight."

"What? But the Soul Bonds-"

"Are being automatically re-cast as we speak. They only require you to stay here for another few minutes, after which time you may leave the same way you came."

"So . . . I don't have to be in the third ring for that to work?"

"Not necessarily, no. It just happens that it's usually safer there, especially in the Glade. At the moment, we cannot guarantee your safety. As well as that, we are in mourning for those lost. You would be . . . superfluous."

Ren couldn't tell whether her words had been deliberately calculated to sting, but sting they did. Whatever the case, there was no way he could blame her. She probably didn't even want to be babysitting him. "I guess we just sit here until time's up, then? What about the _Iehkti'na_?"

She shook her head. "There are none. It seems Nekros is true to his word, and has withdrawn completely for now."

"You don't sound particularly pleased with that," Ren noted.

"Well, it is good that he has stepped back and allowed us to operate peacefully, but at the same time, it is frightening. It proves the level of control that Nekros has over the other _Iehkti'na_, and that is something we don't want to have to contend with. The _Iehkti'na_, when they all mass together, are a far stronger force than us. The only thing that has allowed us to continually defeat them over the last seven hundred years is their lack of leadership and organisation. Now that they appear to have that, there is little chance of survival," she said frankly. Although her pale, soft face remained static, Ren could see flickers of uncertainty trembling in her eyes.

"What can we do?"

"Only what we are already doing. You, on the other hand, can do nothing. Simply carry on returning to the world of dreams every night, and we will do the best we can with the rest. When Nekros comes forth again, we shall face him with everything we have. If it turns out that it is not enough, well . . . we shall fall, and you shall have new friends in the world of dreams," she said with a sad smile. "It should not make much difference to you. They have promised they will leave you unscathed, for they need a _yehktira_ as much as we do."

"Don't screw with me!" Ren said, standing up suddenly and wheeling to face her. "You think I wouldn't care if I had to deal with those . . . monsters instead of you?"

"In all honesty, Ren, I'm sure they'd treat you much the same."

"I don't care about that!" Ren said sharply. "Sure, it'd be good to know I have some job security, but I'll take you guys over the _Iehkti'na_ any day! I _like_ you guys! The _Iehkti'na_ are just . . . beasts! How could you even _suggest_ that it wouldn't matter?"

Salinthia raised her hands in a vaguely placatory gesture, but didn't say anything for a while. She stood and walked around the swing set, trailing her hand along the bars. "You . . . are right," she said at length. "I apologise. But please, there is no need to be so incensed."

". . . Of course," Ren said, sitting back down and rocking back and forward. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised that you thought I wouldn't care."

"That was a misjudgement on my part," Salinthia said smoothly. "I appreciate your vote of confidence, and I am sure the other elders will as well. But now, I think . . . I think we could just about call it a night."

"That's . . . all it takes?" Ren asked.

"Indeed. Your _yehkti_ is strong, and your mere presence in the second ring is enough to return the Soul Bonds to their full strength. Regrettably, they disintegrate faster each day. Soon they will reach a critical level where we will need you, or whoever the _yehktira_ is at that point, to remain in our world permanently."

"That . . . how would that happen?"

"We would simply refuse to let you leave. If none of us open a portal for you, you cannot leave the third ring. Your body – in your world – would never wake up. No amount of external stimulus would be able to rouse you. You would seem to be in a coma, and you would probably spend the rest of your life in hospital." She spoke with a brisk, casual tone that grated on Ren's nerves.

"Are you nuts?" he demanded. "You can't just sit there and talk so calmly about doing something like that! That's awful!"

"Do not make assumptions, _yehktira_!" Salinthia snapped, a hard edge suddenly entering her voice. "If it comes down to it, we _will_ _not_ hesitate to keep you here!"

"You can't!" he protested. "I mean . . . you wouldn't!"

"We can and will! Unless a way is found to bring the Soul Bonds back to their full capacity, we will have no choice!"

"Salinthia, you just can't do that! Who the hell do you think you are? If you think I'm just going to sit there and let you screw with me like that, you're horribly mistaken! I just can't believe you!"

"Stop it, Ren!" she said, stepping forward so that her face was just inches from his own, her sea-green eyes stormy with anger. Her voice dropped to a loud whisper as the clouds in the sky overwhelmed the sun, darkening and lowering until the atmosphere positively crackled with pressure. "Let me make this very clear, _yehktira_: you do _not _tell me what I can and cannot do, and you do _not _presume for _one second_ that you are more important than the fate of _two entire worlds_!"

Ren bit his lip, refusing to be cowed. Salinthia was terrifying in a very different way to Elly; while Elly's fury had been small and sharp like a Beedrill sting, Salinthia's was huge and sweeping. A harsh, heavy wind swept through the park, tossing the branches on the trees and buffetting him where he stood. He braced his feet and forced himself to glare back into her eyes as stinging, lashing rain began to hurl itself from the threatening clouds that continued to gather overhead.

He knew she was right, but at the same time he was painfully aware that he couldn't back down now. There was nothing he could say, so he simply made a point of standing as still as he could in the heaving rain and wind, feeling the deep, electric pressure of the storm bearing down upon him as he made himself look into her eyes as they darkened rapidly. Within seconds they were a deep slate grey, the same colour as the thunderclouds overhead.

Abruptly, she narrowed her eyes, a rumble of thunder accompanying the gesture. "Go," she said. Her voice was quiet, yet he heard her perfectly clearly over the maelstrom of whirling winds that threatened to engulf them. "Your time here is done, _yehktira_."

Fighting to contain his own anger, Ren nodded once, jerkily, and stepped back without breaking eye contact. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw – barely – the small black portal that would lead him back to the first ring. Without taking his eyes off Salinthia's, he reached out for it with his right hand. He felt a slight tug on his arm and he was gone.

_He stands in a field, one not unlike the one in which he is used to materialising in the third ring. It _is_ the same one, he realises with a start. The grass is trampled and spattered with mud, twisting itself into agonised knots on the ground. Deep furrows are carved in the earth, furrows that grow deeper and more frequent as he walks towards the forest. Soon, he finds himself at the base of the hill, which is little more than a ghastly, churned mud bath. The mud is tinged with purple, and all around is the bitter stench of vinegar and burnt grass._

_There is a small jerk somewhere inside Ren's chest, and the scene dissolves as he is pulled upwards and out of reach. He feels hundreds of accusing eyes on him as he ascends, and he can't be sure if they are his imagination or not._

Ren woke suddenly, feeling unusually grumpy – even for a Monday morning. It took him a few seconds to zero in on the reason, for the events of his dreams sought to elude him even now. Carefully, he sifted through his mind, locking onto the small, elusive memory that sat lodged in the back of his thoughts. He seized upon it gladly, and was rewarded with a sudden flash of bitter realisation.

He groaned inwardly. _Oh, hell . . . what did I say?_ He knew full well what he had said, of course. The question was entirely rhetorical, but he had thought it might make him feel a little better. It didn't.

Sitting up and allowing the blankets to fall away from him, he put his head in his hands for a minute. _Damn, damn, damn. _He had let his temper get the better of him for the first time in . . . how long? _Nearly three years_. He shuddered to think of the last time he had blown up in someone's face like that.

Not long before his twelfth birthday, he had challenged Brawly for what must have been the tenth time. Zangoose had been his strongest battler even then, so having him easily knocked flying by Brawly's Fighting-type Pokemon meant that the battle had been far more difficult than any other Gym Leader he had faced until that point. After being handed yet another total defeat by the surfer, Ren had almost reached boiling point. When Brawly had suggested moving on and training elsewhere before returning to challenge him again, Ren had snapped.

Of course, his outburst at that time had been completely unjustified. Brawly had only been doing his job; besides, Ren knew that most of the anger he had let loose at that point had been directed at himself. He had been ashamed of his weakness, his stubbornness and his perceived ineptitude. His rage should have been directed inwards, but he had let it all go and focused it on the man in front of him.

Ren had since returned to Dewford and apologised to Brawly, of course. Brawly had understood and given him a rematch for the Knuckle Badge – which Ren had won – but it didn't stop him feeling a little guilty whenever the incident came to mind.

This time, however . . . this time was a little different. Flopping back onto his bed, Ren rolled over and buried his head in his pillow. Salinthia had taken him by surprise with her cool, detached explanation of what could very likely happen to him. Part of him knew that she was completely right, but he didn't really want to admit it. "How does she get off talking like that?" he grumbled aloud. Somehow the thought that, as _yehktira_, he might have to make some kind of sacrifice had failed to occur to him.

_I was wrong to get mad like that_, he admitted to himself. _But still, I can't help but feel it was a little justified._ Salinthia had sprung it on him awfully suddenly, for sure.

"Ren!" came his mother's voice, echoing faintly from downstairs. "Are you up yet?"

With a distracted smile, Ren rolled out of bed, still dwelling on what had transpired that night. He was already regretting his words and his attitude, and had every intention to apologise that evening, but it did not stop the topic from floating in the front of his mind.

As a result, Ren spent most of the day in a strange sort of fugue, drifting from activity to activity with an uncertain manner that caused his mother to ask several times if he was still tired.

After breakfast, he spent the morning drifting aimlessly about the house, unsure of what to do. His mother was busy with her article for the _Mirror_, so he was largely left to his own devices. On a whim, he sat down at the kitchen table and began writing a letter. A forgotten promise had suddenly pushed itself to the forefront of his mind, and he seized upon it gratefully as a means to take his mind off what would surely be an extraordinarily awkward encounter with Salinthia in the world of dreams.

_Dear Falkner,_

_I haven't called for a while, but that's not really why I'm writing. I remember you made me swear I'd write to you when I became Champion of the Hoenn League. Well, at the time, I never thought I'd ever find myself writing that letter, but, well . . . here I am._

_You probably saw the news about the League Conference and all that on TV, so I won't go into too much detail about that. Mostly I just wanted to thank you. It's been three years since I trained with you in Violet, but I can't overstate how important that period was for me. I learned so much with you, and it really helped me with getting to where I am now._

_So, thank you for that. When I finally challenged you and won the Zephyr Badge, it was the best battle I'd had up till that point, and still one of the best I've ever had. It helped me carry on through the rest of the League._

A thought suddenly striking him, he reached into the backpack that still sat in the corner of the kitchen and withdrew one of the three small, flat cases that sat safely in the deepest pocket. Sitting back down at the table, he unlatched the clasp. Two Johto League badges sat in shaped depressions in the velvet lining, glinting slightly in the sunlight. The Zephyr Badge and Mineral Badge looked somewhat lonely in the case, the six empty slots reminding him of the Gym Leaders he hadn't yet battled. Shaking his head, he closed the case with a sigh and went back to writing.

_It feels weird, being the Champion, you know. I mean, it's everything I ever worked towards. I remember telling you all about it so excitedly when I came to the Violet Gym, and you just smiled that funny smile you have. I guess I looked just like every other kid that came through with stars in his eyes, but that's where the weirdest thing is. When I think about it . . . becoming the Champion is a goal that every Trainer sets out with. But I . . . I actually made it, and it's always a little strange, somehow, to think of all the other kids that didn't make it. It makes me wonder why I'm any different, why I succeeded where so many others failed. Why am I so special?_

Briefly, Ren remembered what Steven had said – how the Champion was largely decided by an individual's level of _yehkti_. After all the strangeness of the last couple of days, he had almost entirely forgotten about that. Remembering it was, honestly, not a very nice feeling, he realised suddenly. Did that mean that all his hard work had been an illusion? _If I've been predetermined to be Champion since the day I was born, does anything that I do make a difference? _Steven had said that it did, that he wouldn't have become Champion without all the hours of pressing his nose to the grindstone, but all the same . . . it bugged him a little. It was like being handed a merit certificate in school, only to be told that the principal had decided to give it to you years ago, regardless of your actual performance.

_I guess it doesn't matter right now, _he wrote, unwilling to scribble out the words already written._ It bears thinking about, but I can do that later. I've got so much to do now – I can't believe it! I kind of thought life might slow down a little once I became Champion, but . . . it didn't. If anything, it got more hectic. Sure, I've got more time at home now, but it sure doesn't feel like it. Even though there's technically less I have to do, I have to go all over the place and do all kinds of things. It makes it feel like there's more to do. At any rate, it's sure nice to be back home – well, sort of._

_How's life in Violet? Did that girl come back to challenge you after I left at all? What was her name, again? Laura or something? She had a Bayleef, I think, which probably explained why she was having so much trouble beating you. I haven't heard much news out of Johto at all lately, to be honest. Is everything just being quiet as usual?_

_Listen to me, sheesh. I sound like I'm suspecting some kind of conspiracy. But never mind that. It feels good to be able to just sit down and write a letter like this. I never had the time – or, to be entirely straight with you, the inclination – before, but it's something I could get used to. It helps me get my thoughts in order. So thanks for that, I guess. I do feel a bit better now – not so darn philosophical, at any rate. I'm just rambling now, though, so I'll sign off for now._

He debated for a minute over how to sign the letter, but eventually settled for the slightly formal _Your Friend, Ren Goodwin_ before folding it into an envelope and taking it outside to slot it into the pickup box for the postie to find the following morning.

As he leaned absently on the gate, Ren's mind – no longer distracted by letter-writing – returned to Salinthia and the world of dreams. While he knew that he should be concerned, he found it difficult somehow. _Does that make me a bad person? I almost feel like I don't care what happens_. He concluded that it was because there was nothing he could do from his current position. Salinthia had said as much, and he certainly couldn't see any evidence to the contrary.

He was just a third wheel, he realised. He had deluded himself briefly that he would get along with the spirits and . . . what? Be seen as their equal? He was their_ yehktira_, that was all. He was a necessity. Even in terms of necessities, he was a pretty useless one, he reflected bitterly. Steven, surely, had been of more use. From what he had gleaned from Maho and Cecilia, Steven had been working to solve the mysteries of the world of dreams from the outside. _I can't even do that_.

Then again, he realised briefly, watching a Wingull wheeling on an updraft, there was no reason he couldn't. For that matter, there was no reason why Steven would have stopped his research when he stepped down as _yehktira –_ he hadn't struck Ren as the sort of person to give up on something that important just because it wasn't strictly his job any more.

He would have to talk to Steven again as soon as possible, he decided, the thought making him feel a little better. _Arceus . . . I'm just going in circles today_, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and inhaling deeply.

"There's nothing happening," he said to the Wingull. "That's the problem. Mum's busy, I've got nothing happening . . . there's nobody to battle, no pressure to get to a rest stop before dark. Nothing's bloody _happening_!" he grunted, kicking the letterbox stand in a sudden fit of childish petulance.

He glanced involuntarily down at his belt, where force of habit had compelled him to attach his six Poke Balls that morning. He sighed heavily, all the wind dropping out of his sails as he relented. _Fine. Training it is_.

He hadn't brought most of his Pokemon out for a good few days now, and he felt a little guilty when he realised this. While he didn't go for all the new age stuff that was going around like wildfire these days – Trainer and Pokemon are one spirit, one completes the other, you can't win unless you and your team share a bond forged in hellfire – he knew that his Pokemon were still his friends, and he had neglected that lately.

He dashed back to the still-open front door and hollered down the hallway, "Mom! I'm just going out for a while! Back in a couple of hours!"

"Honey-" his mother began, her voice emanating distantly from the study at the back of the house, but he didn't hear any more, already having dashed away, out the gate and up the road – running in the opposite direction to the city of Slateport proper. He had a place in mind – yet another place he hadn't been for five years.


	19. Freedom

**Chapter Nineteen**

_Freedom_

Slateport was named so for a reason. The top of the cliff on which Ren's house balanced awkwardly had once been a rich source of a high-quality variety of the hard grey stone, and it was this enormous deposit that had necessitated the building of a port nearby to traffic the material through. That had all been a long time ago, of course. The demand for slate had fallen as metal and glass came into fashion, and while there was still a significant amount quarried in the area, all the work in the vicinity of Ren's house had long since ceased, leaving behind nothing but a number of sizable craters, dotted along the clifftop like the marks of a giant's pogo stick.

It was to the nearest of these abandoned quarries that Ren now climbed, taking a little-used, steep path that led him off the road and up a narrow crevice in the cliff. It probably wasn't very safe, but that didn't bother him as he scrambled up over the loose shale towards the top. Loose stones skittered away beneath his feet, making the ascent treacherous, but Ren skipped over them with practiced ease, his body remembering the movements that even his memory had let go.

At the top, he paused to catch his breath, doubling back a little to stand a few metres from the edge of the cliff. He had forgotten quite how long the trail up to Quarry #133 was. _Still,_ he reflected as he turned to look back the way he had come, _it was worth it_. His view of the ocean, usually spectacular at worst, was beyond awe-inspiring from the top of the cliff. It was barely lunchtime, he supposed; he had forgotten his Pokenav, so he judged by the surprisingly hot sun that hung overhead. Without the sun in his eyes as it so often was, he could see for miles and miles. Slateport was out of sight somewhere to his left, but he could see three or four largish ships slewing their way towards it, accompanied by dozens of smaller ones that left tiny white threads of wake behind them.

A cold wind blew across the top of the cliff, reminding him how exposed he was. Turning away from the ocean he had seen so many times, yet never grew tired of, he hurried towards the gnarled wire fence that stood – or rather leaned, for it had guarded the quarry for countless years – a hundred or so metres away.

As he had imagined, nobody had been by to fix the gaping hole in the fence that allowed him access. Ignoring a rusty yellow warning sign that blared 'Danger! Unsafe area – no entry except for council personnel,' he ducked through the gap, immediately finding himself standing on hard, packed earth rather than grass. It was always a little eerie, that – as if he had stepped out of nature and into a construction of man. Which, he supposed, he had. A handful of derelict huts were strewn about the area, clearly much older than the fence surrounding them. The wind was not quite as strong here as it had been at the edge of the cliff, but it still blew sharply, kicking up a cloud of dust here, rattling a dust-ravaged windowpane there.

Ren shivered a little and pressed on, passing the huts without another thought much like he always had done. Another fence stood in his way, much stronger than the last – even if it _was_ decades older. This one, however, had a wide-open gate. Ren stepped through confidently, suddenly finding himself confronted by the quarry.

Probably fifty metres across at the bottom, and maybe two hundred at ground level, the quarry was a roughly semicircular depression, hacked out of the slate over a long period of time, gradually widening and deepening. Natural erosion had worn much of it smooth over however many years it had been abandoned, leaving rounded edges and slopes everywhere, while he imagined it had once been all sharp corners and harsh lines. There was still a clear pathway, however, which snaked its way in a spiral pattern around the bowl of the quarry, and it was this which he now followed, tracing the invisible footsteps of his younger self.

It took him about ten minutes to reach the bottom. Even though the quarry wasn't all that deep, he had been walking at a leisurely pace, taking in every detail of the rock that slowly rose over his head. At the bottom, he walked to the middle of the roughly circular space, stepping over small chunks of discarded rock and around larger ones. In the middle, he stopped and looked up. There were a handful of fluffy white clouds scudding across the azure sky, but the sun beat down on him powerfully, causing him to hiss involuntarily and close his eyes, cursing his foolishness.

"Well done, you," he grumbled, rubbing his eyes and blinking. Coloured spots danced in the air in front of him wherever he looked. Seeking a distraction, he remembered why he had come in the first place. His hands dropped to his belt, tapping the release switches on all six of his Poke Balls. With a loud series of pops, his Pokemon leapt forth in flashes of red light, all of them clearly enthused to see light of day. "Sorry, guys," Ren murmured guiltily as he watched them.

Manectric barked happily and set off at a blinding run around the area, investigating the unfamiliar surroundings and enjoying the rough terrain. Zangoose stood at Ren's side, doing its best to look surly, but the sunlight warming its white fur was clearly having an effect; Ren noticed – with some amusement – the subtle shifting of its feet and flickering of its eyes that betrayed its interest.

Braviary, his proud plumage perenially glossy, perched atop a large chunk of discarded slate with his beak thrust regally towards the sky. His beady eyes followed Yanmega as it buzzed happily around, zipping backwards and forwards with all the frenetic pent-up energy it could muster – which was a considerable amount, Ren knew, well aware of the Bug-type's enthusiasm for high speeds.

A rumble sounded through the quarry as Camerupt stomped its enormous, boulderlike front leg in a sign of approval, its thickset head bobbing appreciatively as the sun washed over it. As Ren watched, Braviary flapped down from his perch to take up a position atop one of the two volcanic cones that thrust upwards from the huge Pokemon's back. Camerupt was by far the largest Pokemon Ren had raised – a colossus of stone and flesh – so large, in fact, that it seemed like a real mountain with the impressive Flying-type on top of it.

A quiet humming filled the air as Ren turned to look at the only one of his Pokemon that had released itself behind him – Solrock. Its rocky golden spines were glowing slightly as it levitated a good couple of metres off the ground. Eyes closed in serene contentment, it seemed to be surrounded by a faint nimbus of golden light. Ren realised that it was also soaking up the sunlight, only a lot more literally than the rest of his team.

"Well, guys," he said, causing them all to turn and look at him expectantly, "I guess we should get started. Braviary, have you been able to catch Yanmega yet?" While he still refused to blink, Braviary averted his eyes slightly, which gave Ren all the answer he needed. "Right, then," he said, trying to hold back a smile. "Let me see what you guys can do."

Braviary needed no further encouragement. With a loud, keening skrike, he launched himself off Camerupt's back and pelted towards the hovering bug-type, cleaving effortlessly through the air. Ren watched with satisfaction as the two wheeled and spun through the air above him, carefully observing their movements. As ever, Braviary was easily the faster of the two, his enormous, red-and-blue wings more than making up for his bulk. Yanmega's agility, however, was unparalleled, and it easily flew rings around the bigger Pokemon.

"Braviary, slow down a little," Ren called, struck by a sudden thought. Looking rather taken aback, Braviary braked slightly, allowing Yanmega – who had been flying around Braviary's wings – to shoot ahead of it. Clearly, Braviary understood exactly what Ren had meant, for he took advantage of the separation to immediately speed up and make another pass at Yanmega, who was now a clear few metres ahead of it. His harsh beak snapped eagerly, but Yanmega barely managed to buzz out of the way. A frustrated shriek echoed throughout the quarry as Braviary was denied his prey yet again.

"That's good," Ren said. "Keep trying that." The problem, he had noticed, was that Yanmega had been shrewdly using Braviary's own body against it, ducking under and rolling over it to avoid the talons and beak that sought to capture it. The sudden deceleration had momentarily overcome that, allowing Braviary a clear shot. Yanmega had reacted instinctively, but it had been a far nearer miss than usual. The Bug-type would be wise to the trick now, but it would make it only marginally easier to avoid.

As the two wheeled and dived overhead, Ren turned to his other Pokemon. Solrock seemed quite happy to bask in the sunlight for the moment, so Ren decided to let it be. Camerupt snorted eagerly, but Ren eyed their surroundings warily, well aware of how unsafe the quarry was. He had never dislodged any of the loose rocks around the bowl before, but he was unwilling to risk generating an earthquake. "Sorry, buddy," he said with a grimace. "You might have to sit this one out for today. Watch Braviary and Yanmega for a while. Make sure they don't eat each other."

Rumbling in disappointment, Camerupt nevertheless turned its attention upwards as best it could with its stocky neck, leaving Ren to chew his lip as he stared thoughtfully at Zangoose and Manectric. At length, he clapped his hands once. "Right," he said. "Speed training all round. Zangoose, let's see if you can catch Manectric."

Zangoose shot him a look that quite clearly said, _Are you mad?_ While Ren was well aware that the Normal-type would climb into hell if he asked it, he was aware that it probably thought this an exercise in futility. Fiercely competitive though it was, Zangoose had eventually – and grudgingly – come to accept that speed was Manectric's domain. The blue and yellow Pokemon was the embodiment of a lightning bolt, after all.

"What, don't think you can do it?" Ren taunted good-naturedly. Zangoose's eyes narrowed, but it refused to rise to the bait.

Ren sighed. "Look, just give it a shot, all right? Manectric, run around in as big of a circle as you can."

Manectric barked and was gone in a flash of yellow. Ren lost sight of it for a second, but then his eyes latched onto the blur that dashed around the edge of the flat area at the bottom of Quarry #133. He saw Zangoose's eyes following the blur as well, and smiled. "Listen," he said. "Manectric is moving in a predictable pattern at a constant speed. It's fast, but you should still be able to intercept it like that with a little practice."

Zangoose hissed suspiciously, but crouched lower to the ground, preparing to spring. Red eyes narrowed in concentration, its pupils flicking from left to right and then back again as Manectric blasted across its field of vision again and again. After a few seconds, Ren noticed its body rocking slightly. He was confused for a moment, but then he realised that it was simply adjusting its rhythm to that of Manectric. _Good. First step, done – without me having to say anything._

With a yowl, Zangoose suddenly bounded forward. Manectric, however, was already well past as Zangoose leaped. Ren blinked as Zangoose's jump pushed it higher than he had expected, gaining it several seconds of airtime. As it came back down, Manectric was already rushing back around towards it. The timing was almost perfect.

Almost. With an almighty crash, Zangoose struck the ground right at the point where the bottom of the quarry met the wall, but Manectric was over two metres away by the time the attack landed, skidding to a halt to stand watching proudly. Zangoose yowled in frustration and struck out at the sloping wall, rubble spraying out from the point of impact.

Ren grinned nonetheless. "That's it!" he said. Seeing Zangoose's confused glance, he amended, "Well, that's not _quite_ it, but you were far closer than I thought you'd be on the first time. I'm impressed! Do you see how it works, though?"

Zangoose inclined its head in grudging agreement as it trudged back over to stand by Ren, who scratched it behind the ear. "Try again," he said. "Make sure you read the rhythm. Manectric, go one more time!" he added, raising his voice slightly. Manectric barked and obediently went tearing off around the edge of the basin again.

Zangoose settled into the rhythm more quickly this time, wavering back and forward, left and right as it fixed its aim on Manectric. Without warning, it charged again, feet pounding the ground and then lifting it, powerful muscles propelling it upwards in an enormous arc. Ren watched with bated breath as the two Pokemon flew towards what surely had to be a collision point. Zangoose was going to hit its target on just the second try. Manectric raced around its circle, heading straight for the point where Zangoose was going to land. When the two Pokemon were barely a metre apart – just as all doubt disappeared from Ren's mind – Manectric stopped, leaving Zangoose to crash uncontrollably into the wall.

Ren frowned. "Manectric," he said sharply. "What was that for? I didn't realise we were playing chicken!" Zangoose also hissed angrily at the Electric-type, clearly incensed at being denied its target.

Manectric yelped in protest, seeming to strain against an invisible wall. Looking more closely, Ren saw a faint pink glow surrounding its body. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair as he turned to glare at the only unoccupied member of his party. "Solrock," he growled. "What have I told you about playing jokes like that? Let him go."

Solrock bounced gently in midair, its round eyes sparkling with amusement. Sounding a single, musical note that echoed around the area, it released Manectric, who bounded over to bark grumpily at it.

A loud shriek from just behind Ren caused him to duck sharply – and just in time, too. Braviary swooped through where his head had just been, wickedly sharp claws extended in pursuit of Yanmega. Standing up again, Ren shook his head and smiled as the enormous Flying-type continued to pursue its frustratingly elusive target

"Zangoose, Manectric, you keep that up. I can trust you not to hurt each other, I hope." Zangoose shot him a sideways look, but nodded. "Good. And you," he said, glaring at the mischievous Solrock, "can come with me and practice your Fire Spin."

Solrock thrummed reluctantly. "Yes, it helped us beat Steven. Yes, it took out his Metagross. But it still lacks a bit of refinement. Don't give me that look, you know it too. Now, I want you to-"

"Ren Goodwin!"

Ren's eyes snapped upwards. He knew that voice, though he hadn't heard it for years. _Could it be? _He couldn't be sure. The man standing at the quarry entrance was tall and bulky, dressed all in jeans and a white polo shirt, but that was all he could make out from forty metres below.

The man started down the path at a run, and Ren simply stood, turning slowly on the spot, and watched him draw closer as his Pokemon stopped what they were doing to stand with him. As the black-haired newcomer came further down the side of the quarry, Ren grew more and more certain of his identity. _Hell, he's changed, though_, he thought.

"Long time no see, Cole," Ren said with a smile as he stepped forward to greet his older cousin. "You're . . . really big now." It was true. Cole was well over six feet tall, and rather broad in the shoulders and torso. He had always been bigger than Ren – he was seven years older, after all – but since Ren had left, he had filled out a great deal.

Cole laughed good-naturedly, his breathing barely affected by running down the twisting path. "You've got a good bit bigger yourself, but you're still a squirt," he chuckled. "I wasn't expecting to find you all the way out here, but look at you! I guess you still remember this place, huh?"

"Of course," Ren said, allowing his cousin to pull him into an affectionate bear hug and ruffle his hair. As always, he felt like a ragdoll in Cole's grip. "I had to come back here."

"I guess you remembered what you once said about it being the perfect place to train Pokemon. I heard your bird making a racket from some way away and had to check it out," Cole said, glancing past Ren at the Pokemon that had arrayed themselves behind him.

"You never did bring yours out up here for some reason," Ren mused, suddenly remembering. "Why was that?"

Cole's smile flickered momentarily. "Don't you remember? It's because we promised to come here to train and battle together someday. This was going to be our 'super-awesome secret intense training ground'."

"Oh . . ." Ren said, suddenly feeling more than a little guilty. "I guess I . . . did forget that, huh?" He found himself unable to meet his cousin's eyes.

"Hmm . . ." Cole looked thoughtful for a moment, but then he snapped his fingers. "I've got it!"

"Huh?"

"You can battle me right here and now! If you do that, I'll forgive you."

"Are you . . . sure?" Ren asked. "I mean, I don't want to sound like an ass or anything, but I _am_ the Champion now."

"That doesn't matter," Cole said dismissively, fishing in his pocket for a couple of Poke Balls. "I always knew you were gonna be better than me anyway. The important thing is that we battle, and we do it now. I've only got two Pokemon on me at the moment, though, so it's gonna have to be a quick one. We can catch up and be all nostalgic together later." He started to release his Pokemon, but caught himself and stopped. "Here, you pick your two before I send 'em out. You don't get any advantages."

Ren raised an eyebrow. Cole was just like his sister Natasha in a way, he realised – quite convinced that he could do what he liked, when he liked, and how he liked. "All right," he said. _Braviary looks a bit worn out from chasing Yanmega, and Camerupt will probably bring the whole quarry down on our heads. Zangoose and Manectric have both had an outing lately, so that leaves . . ._ "Yanmega, Solrock. You guys are up. The rest of you can take a break and watch."

Yanmega buzzed eagerly across to hover at Ren's left shoulder, clearly spoiling for a fight after so long cooped up in its Poke Ball. Solrock moved a little more serenely, but Ren could tell that it was just as excited in its own unfathomable way.

"Good?" Ren asked, cocking an eyebrow as he felt the familiar thrill of battle beginning to rise in his heart. This was different to Roxanne and Vila. Vila had been an amateur, no serious challenge at all, and Roxanne had been a familiar face using familiar strategies. He hadn't seen his cousin for five years, and he had never paid any particular attention to people's battling styles in those younger days. He didn't even know which Pokemon Cole had, though he could make an educated guess about one of them.

"Yeah, that'll do fine," Cole said with a grin that screamed confidence. He had to have a reason for that, Ren deduced. It had to be something to do with the type matchups. "How are we gonna do this?"

"Yanmega," Ren said quietly. "You're first." It was a standard strategy when facing unfamiliar opponents; Yanmega was the most capable of evading attacks, meaning that it was least likely to suffer from a disadvantageous type matchup. _Still, if he pulls out a Rock-type . . ._ "You're the challenger, so you can choose your first Pokemon after you've seen mine," Ren said. "Both Trainers can switch their Pokemon at will, and the battle ends when both Pokemon on one side are judged unable to battle. Sound all right?"

"That works. Don't we need a referee?"

"It's fine," Ren said. "We'll both play nice, won't we?"

"Of course. Let's do this thing, then." Cole turned suddenly and jogged back to the opposite side of the quarry, leaving Ren to do the same as his remaining Pokemon stepped back out of the way. Yanmega shot forwards, taking up an offensive position in the middle of the open space, habitually placing itself near a cluster of half-cut blocks of slate that could provide cover if necessary.

Ren hastily sized up the battlefield, nodding appreciatively. He would have placed Yanmega exactly where it was, given the choice. It always felt good to see his Pokemon learning and growing, and he felt a sudden flush of pride.

The few clumps of slate chunks aside, the roughly circular area was largely clear of obstruction – a perfect battlefield.

"By the way, Ren," Cole called from the other end, "I won't let you hear the end of it if you go easy on me, all right?"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Ren shouted back. "Now let's go! You can call the first move as soon as you choose your Pokemon!" He saw Cole look down at the Poke Balls in his hands, his head lowered for several seconds while he weighed them against other. At length, he tossed one straight upwards.

At the peak of its arc, the ball burst open and a powerful, avian shriek rattled Ren's teeth in his head. An enormous, black and grey Flying-type wheeled overhead, a sharply hooked crest visible on its head. It was bulkier than Braviary, but moved more slowly and ponderously.

"Nice Staraptor," Ren said, more to himself than his opponent. He saw Cole's hand fly up, and Staraptor dived towards the still-unmoving Yanmega with a speed that belied its rotund form. The battle was on.


	20. Solarbeam

**A/N**: Thanks a million to X, who left a review(s) that absolutely made my week. It really means a lot to me that someone thinks that way about something I wrote. Thanks heaps for the plug, too. I'd reply to you directly, but you apparently disabled PMs. XD

In any case, I owe you a review. I'll sling one your way when I find a bit of time.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty<strong>

_SolarBeam_

"Go!" The command had barely left Ren's lips when Yanmega sprang into action. The tone of its throaty thrumming changed as it zoomed forward, seeming to head straight towards Staraptor. At the last moment, it spun aside, allowing the wind from its opponent's large wings to push it even further out of the way, throwing it into a controlled spiral that brought it close to a second pile of slate chips that varied in size from mere pebbles to chunks the size of Ren's head.

Ren saw what Yanmega was after, and was more than happy to go along with it. "Ancientpower! Hit it from behind!"

Its enormous, multifaceted red eyes seeming to glow, Yanmega's buzzing grew almost unimaginably loud. A slight rattling became audible, but it was not immediately obvious where it came from. It became abundantly clear just a second later, however, when the ground behind Yanmega erupted in a shower of slate. In midair, the jagged chunks of rock – some further broken down and cracked by being lifted – changed trajectory and flew towards Staraptor like huge, sharp bullets.

Staraptor had been busy trying to compensate for its missed attack when Yanmega launched its counter, and as such it was still facing the opposite direction. As it turned back towards its opponent, it flew straight into a hail of rocks moving at supernatural speeds.

To its credit – and Cole's – it actually avoided most of the Ancientpower attack, ducking and weaving with surprising agility between the oncoming missiles. Several of them did graze it, however, leaving the Flying-type somewhat battered.

Ren glanced at the ledge that his non-battling team members had retreated to. Was Braviary watching? Sure enough, his own Flying Pokemon had its eyes riveted to Cole's Staraptor. Ren grinned. _Good. Watch and learn. In the meantime_ . . . He turned his attention back to the battle. He probably wouldn't be lucky enough to get another Ancientpower in like that. The element of surprise, at least, had vanished, and he knew full well that that was half of his advantage.

He noticed, however, that Staraptor seemed somewhat more affected than he would have thought it would be, given the relatively light attack it had weathered. _Why is that? Of course, it's not as well-trained as Yanmega . . . Vila aside, I've battled nothing but high-level Trainers lately._

"We can press that!" he said aloud. He started to direct Yanmega upwards, but the Pokemon had predicted his order, rapidly ascending straight upwards. By placing itself above the shaken Staraptor, it had an immediate advantage in this battle – both physical and mental.

"Aerial Ace!" Cole shouted, and Staraptor responded instantly by barrelling upwards towards Yanmega, beak outstretched. Its speed seemed to defy the laws of physics. Even as Ren opened his mouth to order Yanmega out of the way, it was moving, but he knew it would not be fast enough to dodge Staraptor's blistering speed.

Sure enough, Yanmega took a glancing blow to one of its wings, sending it tumbling helplessly towards the ground. Less than a foot away from the unforgiving shale floor of the quarry, it righted itself and buzzed out of the way of a potentially lethal follow-up attack that Staraptor had launched, leaving the larger Pokemon to pull up in disappointment.

Ren thought fast. Cole was doing better than he had predicted, simply through his Pokemon's size and type advantage. It was clearly trained for speed, but its defenses were poor. He would have to finish this quickly if he was to finish it at all. He had lost the height advantage, though, and he was unlikely to regain it. Regardless, a plan formed in his mind, quickly pieced together from past experience.

"Staraptor! Dive!" Cole thundered, sweeping his arm down in a somewhat melodramatic fashion.

_Click_. Something in Ren's head fell into place, and he shouted, "Ancientpower, one more time! Ring formation, and hold it!"

Yanmega buzzed agreement, its eyes glowing with exertion once again as it telekinetically ripped huge chunks of slate from the ground around it. They flew into the air just above Yanmega, forming a rough circle in the air. If anything flew into the circle, it would be crushed – and Staraptor was heading straight for it, seemingly unable to adjust its trajectory.

"Go around that, Staraptor! Get behind it and hit it while it's distracted!" Cole barked.

Ren swore silently as Staraptor peeled off at the last second. He had sprung the trap too soon, and now he was caught in it as Staraptor swept around behind Yanmega, who was still occupied with holding the rocks in the air. Just as he was about to order a full retreat, Ren was struck by a further idea. "Hold the rocks there!" he cried. "Hit it when there's an opening!"

"Don't give him one, Staraptor!" Cole roared. "Close Combat!" Staraptor shrieked assent and dived at the hovering Yanmega, buffetting it with its powerful wings. Yanmega could not launch its attack without destroying itself as well.

Ren bit his lip as he watched his Pokemon take a beating, still valiantly struggling to hold the rocks in the air to the exclusion of all else. A few of the shards of slate wobbled and dropped, and Ren knew he had to act fast. Suddenly struck by a further stroke of inspiration, Ren brought his hand up to catch Yanmega's attention before slashing it sharply downwards.

Yanmega understood. Its wings stopped buzzing, and it dropped like a stone to the ground below, leaving Staraptor alone and momentarily confused. "Now!" Ren said, and Yanmega sent all of the floating rocks whizzing into Staraptor. There were no glancing grazes this time; every one of the chunks of rock hit its target, smashing into the larger Pokemon. With a cry, Staraptor fell to the ground, a bundle of limp feathers.

Yanmega lifted its head with a touch of exhaustion, and then forced itself up off the ground and into the air once more. Five seconds passed, then ten. Staraptor remained where it had fallen, while Yanmega stayed aloft, hovering proudly at Ren's shoulder.

"Fantastic job," he murmured at length. "Cole! I think your Staraptor's out for the count!"

Cole nodded, returning the defeated battler to its Poke Ball in a flash of red light. "Tell me, Ren," he said as he pocketed it again. "Why didn't you switch Pokemon? I don't doubt that your Solrock could have made short work of Staraptor. You're not going easy, are you? I warned you about that."

"Of course not," Ren said. "I wanted Solrock at full strength for whatever comes next. If it's what I think it is, I'm going to need all the help I can get."

Cole laughed. "Smart. And if I know you like you know me, I know you know exactly what I'm sending out next."

Ren frowned. "Uh . . . what?"

"I know," Cole said with a grin.

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind. Anyway, it's time! Floatzel, you're in this to win it!" With that, he hurled his second Poke Ball, revealing his second Pokemon. The big orange Water-type glanced around the makeshift arena curiously, seeming to recognise it.

_Of course he does_, Ren berated himself._ Buizel was always here with us when I was a kid._ "I see you got him to evolve, then?"

"Of course!" Cole said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I once dreamed of taking on the Pokemon League with this guy!"

"Really?" Ren said, interested. "When did that dream stop?"

"Oh, a few days ago. Some cousin of mine beat me to it!" Cole guffawed loudly.

"That's no reason to stop," Ren protested.

"I'm kidding," Cole said. "I'm too busy. I'm finishing university this year, and I have to go out and get a job once I'm done. I won't have time to keep up Pokemon training seriously. But hell, I said we'd talk afterwards! You going to bring Solrock out or stay with Yanmega?"

"Take a break, Yanmega," Ren said quietly, directing Yanmega back towards the rest of his team. Solrock rose, unbidden, from its place and headed towards the centre of the battlefield. Its eyes no longer carried any hint of the mischief that had been evident just minutes before. It was all business now.

Ren's mind went into overdrive as he tried to work out how to overcome the second massive type disadvantage of the battle. Solrock knew one move that could deal with Water-types like Floatzel, but its opponent's speed would likely prevent it from getting one off.

"Aqua Jet!" Cole said, clearly expecting an easy win. Floatzel drew himself up to his full height and spewed water from his mouth in a spiralling jet that wrapped around his body like a cloth. He charged forwards at a breakneck pace, the water forming a cone at his head that pointed straight at Solrock.

"Use Fire Spin on yourself to block it!" Ren said quickly, hoping it would do the trick. Solrock hummed and spun like a top, gouts of fire issuing from the tips of its spines and forming into a whirling pillar of intense flame that hid the Pokemon from sight. Ren flinched involuntarily at the heat.

Floatzel was undeterred, however, leaping eagerly forwards, seeming to become one with the water that surrounded him. The combined jet of water and Pokemon scythed through the air and slammed into the fiery maelstrom with an impossibly loud hissing, crackling sound. Ren winced as Floatzel easily punched through the wall of flame.

Solrock, however, was nowhere to be seen. The attack had missed. When the flames dissipated a moment later, Solrock was revealed, hovering proudly a good ten metres off the ground. Knowing as well as Ren did that its flames would wither before Floatzel's water, it had used the cover of the Fire Spin to move out of range of the attack.

"Let's make it fly!" Ren shouted. "Psychic!" He had to go on the offensive, or he would lose easily. Solrock hummed dangerously, spinning gently in midair as a purple glow – barely visible in the bright sunlight – enveloped both it and Floatzel, lifting the Water-type high off the ground until it was level with Solrock.

"That just makes things easier!" Cole said triumphantly. "Water Gun!" Seeming slightly deterred by the fact that it was far further from the ground than it was accustomed to, Floatzel nevertheless spouted a powerful jet of water from its mouth that gushed towards Solrock at high speed. Solrock spun and barely evaded the attack.

"Keep moving!" Ren yelled. "Don't let it pin you down! And start to charge that up while you're at it!" As Solrock started to move, circling the helpless Floatzel, Ren noticed that his Pokemon had already begun soaking up the sunlight. The bases of the spines that protruded from its round body were glowing a bright golden colour. As he watched, the colour began to slowly bleed along the rocky spines.

Floatzel kept turning as best it could, firing blasts of pressurised water at his opponent, but the Psychic attack was clearly taking its toll. Its movements – already restricted by Solrock's telekinetic powers – were growing sluggish. All it needed was one lucky shot, though. Solrock's concentration would be broken, and Floatzel would be free to move again. Ren watched with growing anxiety as the bright gold light spread towards the tips of Solrock's spines.

A jet of water clipped Solrock, sending it spinning. Floatzel fell freely for a second before Solrock regained control, meaning that the bulky Water-type now hovered just a metre or so off the ground. Clearly frustrated, it kept firing water at Solrock.

Ren realised that he had been holding his breath. Just as he let it out in one huge exhalation, another Water Gun hit Solrock, driving it back a little and loosening its control just enough for Floatzel to hit the ground. "Now!" Ren screamed, not even looking to see whether Solrock was done.

Thankfully, it seemed that it was. There was a distant rumble that seemed to shake his entire being, and then the entire quarry was painted bright, glaring white as a shaft of pure sunlight blasted out of the sky and smashed into Floatzel. Ren closed his eyes a split second too late and found the afterimage of the burning pillar of light seared into his retinas. A yell from the other end of the battlefield told him that Cole had suffered the same experience.

A second after the light had shot down from above, it was followed by the arrival of a world-shaking, earth-shattering crash that seemed to rock the entire cliff that the quarry stood on. Ren pressed his hands over his ears, but he was unable to block out the noise.

After several seconds, the light beating against Ren's eyelids dimmed, and he cracked his eyes open cautiously. It was still difficult to see; his pupils had been hugely confused by the sudden flash of light. As his vision cleared, however, he saw Floatzel lying prone on the ground.

His breath coming in great gasps, Ren sat down heavily. "That was far closer than it needed to be," he said to himself.

"It's my loss," Cole said, striding forward and returning Floatzel to its Poke Ball. He came over to sit down next to Ren. His breathing was also heavier than normal, Ren noticed – even though running four hundred metres down the side of the quarry had barely fazed him. "You all right, cuz? You look a little out of it."

"I guess I am," Ren said. "That was the first proper battle I've had since I beat Steven, I guess."

"What, you out of practice already? Didn't you beat him on, like, Wednesday or something?" Cole asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, but . . . I don't know. That was a good battle either way, though. I thought you had me with that Close Combat for a minute there."

"I thought I had you, too," Cole said with a laugh, "but look where that got me. Two-nil, huh? Jeez, I haven't been whitewashed like that for ages. Then again, I wouldn't expect any less from the Champion! Oh, yeah. I forgot to congratulate you properly for that. Well done, little man. You've done us all proud."

"Thanks, Cole. I just hope I can keep it up."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Cole asked, frowning.

"Oh, um . . . nothing," Ren said. "Just a bit overwhelmed by everything that's going on." He wished, for a brief, mad moment, that he could tell Cole everything. It seemed that everything would become so much easier if he just told his cousin about the world of dreams and the hefty responsibilities that had become his when he had beaten Steven. He knew he couldn't, though. As much as he trusted Cole – as much as he had never kept anything secret from him before – he knew he had to keep silent. Steven had made that much clear, and Ren had to agree with the logic.

"Well, you'll get used to it," Cole said, ruffling Ren's hair reassuringly. "Ha, listen to me. I'm talking like I've been through it or something. Anyway, we should get going about now. I was on my way to Aunt Thalia's when I bumped into you."

"It always sounds weird when you call her that," Ren grumbled.

"Just because you're used to calling her 'Mom'," Cole said. "So you'll come with me, right? We can talk on the way."

Ren stood with a sigh, his eyes fixed on the gate at the top of the quarry. "Guess I can. That battle was training enough for everybody, I think. To tell the truth, I just came out here to take my mind off a few things."

After a few seconds, Ren realised that Cole had neither spoken nor moved, which was certainly uncharacteristic. He glanced back down at Cole, who was still sitting on the ground next to him, and was surprised to find his cousin watching him with a thoughtful, distant look in his eyes. Ren shot him a questioning look.

"I was just thinking . . . you've grown up a lot," Cole said slowly.

"I'm not _that_ tall," Ren said with a frown, even though he knew that it wasn't what Cole had meant.

"No, not like that. Back then, you were always such a kid, you know? You were the little one that tagged along behind Tim and I all the time, always excited about something. It was like you were the little brother I didn't have. Now, I sit here and talk to you, and it's like I'm talking to someone my age, or even someone older. How did you get so . . ."

"Old?" Ren suggested with a quirk of the lip. "I guess . . . it happens. Some things never change, but some things do. I've been everywhere, Cole. I've seen so many things, and achieved so much. In five years, I've done more living than most people do in their whole lives. Wouldn't that sober anybody up pretty quickly?"

"Yeah," Cole said quietly, standing up so that he once again towered over Ren, brushing grit off the seat of his pants as he did so. "C'mon, let's go back to your place. We've got some catching up to do."

"Right," Ren said, quickly returning his Pokemon to the capsules on his belt as he followed Cole up the path to the top of the quarry. Neither of them said anything until they reached the top, when they turned to look back down at the quarry, a massive bowl scooped out of the earth over decades of labour.

"I remember the first time we came out here together," Cole said. "You were just six, and I was thirteen. You were so scared then. You thought you'd fall in and die, and it took me half an hour to convince you just to go near it."

"Hey, Cole," Ren said, letting his eyes roam freely across the middle distance.

"Mm?"

"Did it ever bother you?"

"Did what bother me?"

"Having me tailing along. I mean, Tim was only a couple of years younger than you, but I was . . . so far away. I must have been such a nuisance."

"Nah, not at all. You were a cool kid. Bit nuts, but who isn't at that age? Why? Did it bother _you_? I never saw you with any kids your own age."

"I was a bit of a loner, yeah," Ren admitted as they turned and headed back towards the fence that ringed the old quarry. "It was mostly my fault, though. Whenever the other kids tried to get me involved with their hijinks, I always turned them down to hang out with you or stay at home with Mom. I always kind of felt that I'd be betraying you guys if I went to play with them." He laughed, but it sounded a little hollow even to him. "Mom always told me that family was more important than anything else, and I guess I took that to heart. Kinda funny, considering what happened with Dad, but . . . I guess it makes sense. Not having him around just made me value you guys all the more. At least, that's what I think when I look back on it now."

"You _are_ old," Cole said drily as he squeezed through the gap in the fence behind Ren. He made a beeline for the crack that led back down to the road.

Ren forced a smile. Today was a weird day, he decided. "I think that's me talked out for a little bit," he said. "Your turn. It's no mystery what I've been up to, but what have you been doing these last few years?"

"Well, ah . . . like I said, I'm finishing university this year – in Lilycove. The first semester finished a week ago, so I took the opportunity to come back home for a little bit before I go back for the last drag."

"What are you studying, then?" Ren asked, suddenly extraordinarily aware that he knew next to nothing about the person he considered his closest friend.

"Commerce!" Cole said proudly. "International business and management, to be exact. I'm going to get right into it once I'm done with uni, so I've started looking for jobs with some of the big firms in town. Slateport's a huge hub for international trade – you know that, of course – so there's a huge number of possibilities there. I could be really successful without ever having to leave home!"

"That'd be nice," Ren said, sliding carefully over a section of loose scree that he normally avoided. He was quite pleased to find that he could do it comfortably. "I was just about ready to come back home after I became Champion, but it seems I have to move around just as much as before. At least I get to be back in town some of the time, though."

"It's good to have you here, Ren," Cole said, his grin suddenly replaced by an unexpectedly frank expression. "I worry about the family, you know. Without a man around . . . Well, my dad's there, but he's . . . a little ineffectual sometimes. I feel a bit bad saying that, but it's the truth. With your dad in Unova, Uncle Murphy dead, me in Lilycove and Tim at boarding school in Kanto . . ."

"I get it," Ren said, sparing Cole the trouble of stumbling over his words any further. "I can't be around here all the time, but I will be as much as I can."

"Just . . . just look after them, okay? All of them. Your mom, my parents, Natasha – and especially Aunt Mabel. I worry about her all alone up there. I dropped by on Friday and she was in a bit of a state. She's not been the same since Uncle Murphy died ten years ago."

Ren nodded silently, coming to a brief halt at the bottom of the trail and looking out across the ocean again. It was just as beautiful as ever, but something in its unreadable depths suggested many, many strange things to come.

_I need to stop doing that_, he scolded himself. _I'm seeing messages that aren't there in perfectly ordinary things. First the park, and now this._

"Ren, you all right?" Cole asked.

"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Look, Cole, I . . . I'll look after them. I don't know how well I can do that, or even what I'll need to do, so I won't make any promises – except one. I'll promise you that I will do everything I can to make sure they're all right. I can't tell how far that promise will go until it's tested, but . . . it's the best I can offer."

"That's all I wanted to hear, Ren," Cole said as he started off down the road again. "I'll hold you to that."

"No need," Ren said with a slight smile. "I'll hold myself to it. That's not the sort of promise I'm going to break for anything."

"You really _do_ sound far older than you look," he said.

"Will you stop saying that?"


	21. More Dreams

**A/N**: I've actually written up to Chapter 30, and I have up to 27 published on other sites. I fell behind on posting it here at some point, so I'm posting kinda rapidly for a while to compensate. ^_^ I'm saving this note now, so if this chapter appears before Monday (NZST) kindly smack me on the back of the hand/head/whatever. I don't want to flood anybody.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-One<strong>

_More Dreams_

Ren left his mother and Cole chatting at the kitchen table, excusing himself to his room. No sooner had he opened the door than his Pokenav – which had been sitting on the floor by the bed – rang insistently. He picked it up guiltily. "Hello?"

"Mr. Goodwin," said a disapproving voice on the other end of the line.

"Mr. Etois," said Ren tiredly. "Sorry, I went out and left my Pokenav behind. Have you been calling long?"

"Only about half an hour," Gerard said drily. "But no matter. I am simply calling to inform you that your transport to Fortree has been arranged for tomorrow."

"Oh, good," Ren said. "So, what's happening?"

"Well . . ." Ren heard a note of disapproval in Gerard's voice.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"Not as such, but . . . well, all I can tell you is that transport has been arranged."

"Wait, seriously? Nothing else?"

"It has been requested that you be waiting outside your house at eight-thirty tomorrow morning."

"Requested? By whom?" Ren frowned.

"Again, I have been asked not to say."

"So you spent half an hour calling me just to tell me that you're not actually allowed to tell me anything?"

"Essentially. I feel it is something of an exercise in futility, but you are nevertheless informed now. Oh, and besides . . . I have spoken to the organisers of the Mauville Contest, and they are more than happy for you to come along and simply watch the proceedings on Thursday. They would like you to present the ribbon to the winner as well, but that will hardly be too strenuous, I imagine."

"Of course. Yeah, I can do that."

"Very well, then. Now, are you able to find transport to Mauville on Thursday?"

"Mauville? Oh, yeah, that's fine. I'll just take a train, or maybe I'll go by Cycling Road. Either way, I'll get there myself just fine."

"Excellent. So remember, eight-thirty tomorrow. Have fun."

"Sure," Ren said, suddenly not entirely certain that he would. As the line went silent, he let his Pokenav drop to the bed beside him.

_You can't afford to be all uncertain now_, he scolded himself. _For Arceus' sake, you've been through too much already to let this kind of thing get to you. _Nodding firmly, Ren took a deep breath, letting the warm, slightly dusty air fill his lungs. Feeling slightly better, he headed downstairs again.

"Are you all sorted for tomorrow, then?" his mother asked as Ren reentered the kitchen and pulled up a chair.

"Yeah. Well, I think so. He wasn't very clear. It seems somebody wants to surprise me. I'm just meant to be waiting outside at eight-thirty in the morning. Maybe they're sending a car, but I have no idea."

"How enigmatic," she mused, an amused twinkle in her eye. "I guess you'll just have to wait."

"Whoa, hang on!" Cole interjected. "What's going on here?"

"I have to go to Fortree tomorrow," Ren said. "They're having a festival of some sort . . . come to think of it, I actually don't know what that's going to involve. But I'm turning up as the Champion."

"Oh. Promotional stuff, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," Ren said.

"You all right with that?" Cole asked, peering intently into Ren's eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be all right?" Ren countered, feigning puzzlement.

"Hmm," Cole said, seeming somewhat unconvinced. "Never mind, then. It was just a thought. Still, that's pretty cool. I guess you have a whole lot of these things going on, huh?"

"I'm . . . busy," Ren admitted. "This is how life is going to be for a while, it seems. I don't expect it'll get any less hectic anytime soon, but I guess it'll get easier as I get used to it."

Cole's eyes narrowed slightly as he observed Ren, but he evidently decided to let whatever had just crossed his mind pass without comment, for he turned to his aunt and engaged her in conversation about Aunt Mabel.

Ren looked down at the dark, varnished whorls of the table, letting the voices of his mother and cousin fade into background noise. Cole had seen it in his eyes, he realised. While he had made light of his heavy duties as Champion, he should have known that he couldn't lie to his older cousin. Even if his lips spoke falsehoods, his eyes would always betray the truth. He had seen that understanding in Cole's own eyes.

_But what should I do?_ There was no way he could admit to how difficult it was. It wasn't like the world of dreams, which had to remain secret for an entirely different reason. In fact, there was no logical reason why Ren shouldn't admit to Cole how much trouble he was having, but still something stopped him. He supposed it was pride. He had spent so many years proving trying to prove to Cole – and to himself – that despite his age, he was able to hold his own with the older boys. Admitting how hard he was having it right now would somehow ruin that, he felt. _I'm fourteen now_, he told himself, clenching a fist under the table where nobody could see it. _I've got to stop relying on other people here._

_Then what am I doing in the world of dreams?_ he wondered suddenly. _I'm just leaning on Elly and the others there. I can't even look after myself – they have to do that for me. But what can I do? There's nothing for it – nothing except making up for it by being as independent as I can here._

"Ren?" Cole prompted, leaning across the table to poke him in the forehead. "You awake there, man?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just a bit tired, still. What is it?"

"I know you're busy tomorrow, but do you think you could drop by and see Aunt Mabel on Wednesday? I have to go back to Lilycove tomorrow, so I can't go with you. But I really think she'd appreciate it, you know? She's not herself these days, but she was really happy to hear how well you did at the League. I'd say she'd enjoy it if you went to talk to her."

"I'll do that," Ren said. "I think . . . yeah, I think she'd like that."

"Good," Cole said, standing up suddenly and heading for the door. "Now, I have to go. Mom made me promise to be home by four. Things to do and all that, you know?"

"I know how that is," Ren said wryly. "See you . . . next time I see you, then."

"Yeah, I probably won't see you in the morning before we both leave. Good luck with all the stuff you've got going on, Ren. And bye, Aunt Thalia. I'll stay in touch."

"Goodbye, dear. Say hello to Roger and Mary for me, would you? Tell them I plan to drop by tomorrow if I can."

"Sure thing," Cole said, and with that, he was gone.

Ren took a deep breath and let it all out at once, standing up from the table. "I'll be in my room," he said.

"All right, dear. Dinner will be about six, I imagine. What do you plan on getting up to till then?"

"Um . . . I don't really know," he said. "I'll find something. Read a book, maybe."

"You could just stay here and talk to me, you know. I get awfully bored with just the radio for company," she said lightly.

Halfway to the stairs, Ren paused. He heard the slight challenge in her voice, and he shook his head helplessly as he returned to his seat in the table.

"So," he said. "What shall we talk about?"

The best part of four hours later, Ren excused himself to go to bed early. It wasn't exactly as if he was keen to return to the world of dreams, but he felt a certain obligation. He had to apologise to Salinthia, for starters. Uneasily, he wondered if the spirits would ever see him the same way again. He remembered Steven's warning about not getting on their bad side. _They are certainly more than capable of making your life hell if you offend them._ He shivered as he sat down on his bed, suddenly unwilling to go to sleep.

On a whim, he reached across to his bedhead and pressed the release switch on Zangoose's Poke Ball. With a _pop_ that seemed louder than usual in the otherwise tranquil evening, his partner Pokemon materialised next to the bed.

Zangoose leapt to the alert, claws raised defensively, and scanned his surroundings quickly. It took him a couple of seconds to work out where he was, at which point he glanced questioningly at Ren as if to ask, 'Why did you bring me out if I don't get to cut anything?'

Ren smiled. "Easy, buddy. Just needed a little . . . company." He slung his legs up on the bed and fell back into the pillow, sighing deeply. After about twenty seconds of silence, he rolled to the side to find Zangoose observing him balefully, red eyes just barely elevated above the level of the bed. "You really don't know what to do, do you?" he mused.

Zangoose cocked his head slightly to one side. _Well, duh_, Ren imagined him saying. Zangoose had never been one for conversation, even as far as Pokemon were concerned. The Normal-type was the main fighter on his team, not a healer or a source of emotional support. Nevertheless, he had been with Ren the longest out of any of his team, and Ren felt a certain sense of calm wash over him with him in the room.

"You want to sleep out of the ball tonight?" he asked. Receiving nothing but a wary, slightly confused glare, he clarified: "I'll feel better if you're there. Wake me up if something . . ."

He stopped and swallowed. What was he worried about? Was Salinthia going to make good on her threat? Would it even be necessary? If what she had said was true, and the Soul Bonds really were deteriorating at a faster rate than before, he would have no choice but to stay in the world of dreams. That prospect didn't endear itself to him.

"Just wake me up if anything goes wrong, okay?" he amended.

Still looking at him askance, Zangoose moved back from the side of the bed and curled up under the window, bushy tail wrapped defensively around his body. His red eyes remained open, however, fixed unblinkingly on Ren.

_Anybody else would find that really creepy_, Ren thought with some amusement. He looked back into Zangoose's eyes as he felt sleep begin to tug on his eyelids, and drew some comfort from the almost tangible connection between them. As he finally closed his eyes, he realised that he had never truly appreciated how lucky he was to have partners like he did.

"_What are you, really?" Ren asks Afro Glameow. He is sitting cross-legged on a giant red mushroom flecked with white spots, sipping sweet, steaming tea from a delicate china teacup with coloured flowers on the side. It's surprisingly tasty, though he isn't normally fond of tea. He replaces the cup on its saucer with a delicate _clink_, noting as he does the thin white gloves that encase his hands._

_Afro Glameow is curled up on a slightly smaller mushroom just a couple of feet for him, but for once it looks anything but threatening. Much like Ren, it is apparently enjoying a hot tea of some kind, lapping it happily out of a saucer. It appears totally at peace with the world._

"_Oi!" Ren tries again, snapping his fingers to get the Pokemon's attention – an effort not exactly aided by the gloves on his hands. "Why do you hang out here, anyway? What are you?"_

_Afro Glameow stretches luxuriously, taking a final lick from its saucer as it does so. Fixing its eyes on a point somewhere behind Ren, it leaps lithely across onto Ren's mushroom. When Ren doesn't react except to take another sip of his tea, it nudges his elbow insistently with its springy afro, mewling gently._

"_Oh, what is it?" Ren snaps, slightly peeved. He turns around, though, and is faced with a familiar-looking black portal. "Oh, right. It seems I have to go now." On a strange whim, he reaches around the afro and scratches the unusually benign Pokemon behind the ear. It lets out a purr, but nudges him even more insistently toward the portal._

"_You really want me to go, don't you?" Ren says thoughtfully. "Why's that?" No answer. He shrugs. "Fine. I'll see you on the way back through, I guess?" Without waiting for a reply, he puts a hand out behind him, allowing the portal to suck him through into the second ring._

"Hello, you," said a familiar voice. It didn't sound too friendly, but Ren opened his eyes and did his best to smile anyway. He was in Steven's secret conference room in the Slateport Devon Corp. building, sitting in one of the chairs. Staring at him from across the table was Elly, looking to be in remarkably better health than the last time he'd seen her. Her lower left arm bore a long, thin scar from elbow to wrist, but it looked as if it had been there for years, appearing as little more than a slightly discoloured line. He still shuddered to look at it, though, remembering the violet blood that had been running freely from it the last time he saw her.

"Um, hi," he said. "Are you . . . I mean, is everything . . ."

"Everything's fine," Elly said. "Well, it's as fine as it's going to get. Now come on, the council wants to talk to you."

"Wait!" he said as she stood up, kicking her chair backwards.

"What?" she asked icily.

Ren winced, but carried on. "I just thought of something. About the _Iehkti'na _. . . if they're that intelligent . . . or rather, if they realise they need me alive in order to survive themselves, why did they try to kill me that first night?"

"I . . . I don't know," Elly said, looking as though it pained her greatly to admit it. "I can only guess. But you're right – that doesn't really match up with what Nekros was saying."

"It wouldn't really benefit them if I died, would it?" Ren asked.

"Of course not, moron," Elly snapped. "You die, the Soul Bonds die with you – and so does everything else. As much as I hate to single you out as special or anything, you're kind of the most important person in the world – in _two _worlds – right now. But don't you dare let that go to your head, you hear me?"

"All right!" Ren said, raising his hands in defeat. He grinned, despite the seriousness of the conversation. "I'll try not to mention it again. But seriously, why the sudden change with the _Iehkti'na_? It's going to bother me all night now."

"My best guess is that in the second ring, they're just as dumb as they normally are. That Nekros seemed to have them under its control somehow, but he – it wasn't in the second ring with us that night. Those smaller _Iehkti'na_ probably couldn't follow as complex an order as 'Don't kill the _yehktira_' when the big boss wasn't around. But hell, what do I know? They're obviously some kind of intelligent now. Maybe they have a government! Maybe they had an election between then and now, and the old leader thought it would be a good idea to knock you off!" Her voice rose steadily in pitch until she was almost shrieking, and Ren winced.

"You seem kind of on edge," he commented, hoping it wouldn't start off another tirade. Of course, he realised what was happening. He had seen Elly's eyes after the battle. She had to be feeling completely useless now. She had spent seven hundred years thinking she was invincible, only to have the uncomfortable truth handed to her all at once by her greatest enemies. She would be lost, afraid and likely feeling extraordinarily redundant. He wasn't going to mention any of this, though. Somehow, he got the impression that it would be better to let her think he still only saw the facade she had put up. Rather than hiding her anger, she was using it as a shield to cover up everything else she was feeling.

"On edge? Who, me? Look, are you out for a beating?" she growled. "Look, never mind. Whatever. The council – myself included – wants to talk to you, and you don't keep the council waiting."

"Not if you have gossip-mill Cecilia around, anyway," Ren muttered, remembering her snide comments the last time he and Elly had arrived late. With something close to shock, he realised that he was worried about Cecilia. Of course, he was worried about everybody in the world of dreams, but it was different somehow. Cecilia didn't seem as strong as the others. While Elly and Salinthia gave the impression that they were completely able to take care of themselves, thank you very much, Ren couldn't help but worry about the waif-like girl with her green-gold hair.

"Are you coming or not?" Elly demanded.

With a start, Ren realised that she had somehow opened a portal to the third ring without him noticing, which was surprising given the remarkable amount of noise that usually accompanied the act. He considered passing comment, but thought better of it and stepped through without a further word.

"Come on, mortal," she said briskly at the other end, practically dragging him away from the portal.

"Mortal?" Ren said quizically. "Since when did you call me that?"

"Since I started being in a bad mood," she snapped, heading for the council building with Ren at her heels.

"Nope, I'm pretty sure you've been in a bad mood ever since I first met you," he said, somehow finding it in him to poke fun at her some more.

Everywhere around him, he saw pain. It lay on the Glade of Shifting Light like a blanket, stifling everything light or colourful. The sky was an uncertain grey, the unlikely marble buildings were dull, and the spirits went about their business with quiet footsteps and downcast eyes. It made him want to bite his tongue and follow Elly silently and reverently; these people were in mourning for the first time in centuries. Even so, he couldn't help but feel that a little levity was necessary.

"Are you ever, you know, happy?" he asked, speeding up a little to walk alongside her.

"It has been known to happen," she said, eyes remaining fixed straight ahead.

"Really? When? What makes you happy?"

"It usually involves no annoying _yehktira_ asking stupid questions, no dead friends, and no imminent threat of Ragnarok."

"Ragnarok?" Ren asked, frowning. "Isn't that-"

"Yes. It's a myth belonging to an ancient people in your world. The final battle at the end of time, where the gods and the giants would fight. This giant serpent would kill this god, that other god would kill some particular giant wolf, and another god would turn traitor and slaughter all his brothers before dying himself or something. One of our _yehktira_ several decades back told me about it."

"So why mention it now?"

"We have a similar belief, actually – that there will be a final battle to end all things. Unlike the legend from your world, though, our prophecy told us nothing specific. We know we will fight, but we don't know who. We don't know when, where or how. We don't even know what will happen afterwards, if there even is an afterwards. It's terribly nonspecific."

Something in Elly's voice seemed to change as she spoke. It was almost like she was reciting something she'd said a thousand times before – yet there was no sense of boredom or frustration. Just an inexplicable feeling of . . . _awe_? "And this . . . you call it Ragnarok too?" he asked, frowning.

"Yes, well. We didn't have a name for it, so we borrowed yours. Why are you so interested, anyway?"

"Oh, well . . . it just seems to me that maybe . . . just maybe, Ragnarok could be coming soon."

"You think I don't know that?" she hissed, rounding on him suddenly. "You think that every single person you see around you doesn't know that? Why do you think everybody is so quiet, Ren? It's not just because we're in mourning. No, we've lost friends and family before. Not for centuries, sure, but our memories are long. We can all feel it coming, Ren! We know the end is coming! We-"

"Stop," grated a voice from behind them.

Ren jumped, turning to see who it was, although he was almost certain that he knew. Sure enough, he saw Maho limping towards them, half-dragging one leg and hunching his shoulder beneath his massive coat.

"Spellcaster General," Elly said respectfully. "Was there something you wanted?"

Maho nodded his head awkwardly. He crooked a finger awkwardly at Ren. "Lab," he croaked.

"Oh, right!" Ren said guiltily. "Sorry about that. Cecilia said-" He cut off when Maho raised a hand sharply.

"Later. Come," he said with apparent difficulty, before turning and limping off again the way he had come.

Ren watched him go with a slight sense of apprehension. "You think he's mad?" he asked nervously. The Spellcaster General was a rather menacing figure, and Ren reasoned that Maho would probably have good reason to be upset about Ren's trespass into his laboratory.

"I wouldn't think so," Elly said. "He probably just wants to talk – or, well, communicate in some way – with you. Maho likes _yehktira_, mostly because he's our lead researcher. He's likely to grill you a bit with regards to the Soul Bonds."

"But I don't know anything about them other than what you've told me!" Ren protested.

"You don't _think_ you do," Elly corrected him, starting off again, leaving Ren to catch up to her. "Anyway, go talk to him after the council is done with you."

Ren sensed that the conversation – such as it had been – was over. He hurried after Elly, his mind returning to what she had been saying a couple of minutes ago. _Ragnarok_ . . . Was it actually going to happen? Would he be a part of it?

And most of all . . . would he survive it?


	22. Green and Black

**A/N**: Well, this is a special chapter, so I figured I'd put it up early. It kind of goes with the last one, as well. On top of that, it's actually the final chapter of Arc 2, which means it's longer than any of the previous ones, which means, which means . . . well, it's just a pretty special chapter all round. _ Anyway, here we go.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Two<strong>

_Green And Black_

The elders looked grave. Of course, they had looked grave the last time he'd seen them on their thrones, too, but there was an extra level of tension that lay over the room. Lucius Balthazar, in particular, seemed to be shifting in his seat far more often than was strictly necessary.

Ren stood at the exact same spot where he had been placed on his first night in the world of dreams, waiting uncomfortably for someone to say something. The elders simply watched him, however.

At length, Bartholomew Elsin spoke up, his voice deep and rumbling. "The _Iehkti'na_ . . ." he said slowly. "They have contacted us again. The one which appears to be a floating ball of shadow – it appeared in the Glade not two hours past. It did not attack, but it gave us a message."

"What did it want?" Ren asked, almost scared to find out. The four enormous _Iehkti'na _that had appeared at the hill had shaken him more than anything else he had seen in the world of dreams, and he wasn't particularly keen to deal with them again.

"You, _yehktira_," Lucius put in from the far left.

"Well, it did repeat Nekros' demand for us to surrender first," Elly added, "but then, yes. It demanded Ren."

"Wh-what for?" Ren asked, trying – and largely failing – to keep the tremble out of his voice.

"That's just it. We don't know what it wants with you, really. It told us it would return the next time you entered the world of dreams, which means-"

_now_

The voice – if that was indeed what it was – had come from directly behind Ren. He whipped around and cursed as he found himself staring directly into a pair of glowing green eyes.

"Creature!" Elsin thundered, rising in his seat. "You do us a great disrespect by trespassing in this place!"

Drawing back slightly from Ren, the floating, apparently gaseous _Iehkti'na_ spoke in the language of the spirits. The words were different to what Ren had heard just moments before, though. They seemed to be less inside his head and more outside it. _Does that even make sense?_ he wondered. He couldn't make out what it was saying, but it sounded faintly amused.

_come with show experience new_

Again, that other voice. It penetrated Ren's head, speaking directly into his thoughts even as the nightmare argued with Elsin aloud. _What do you want?_ he asked silently. It was more of a rhetorical question than one he actually expected an answer to, but the voice replied instantly.

_good listen want show world_

"Ren," Elsin said, interrupting his thoughts. "It wants me to translate to you its offer. Will you listen?"

"Will I?" Ren marvelled at the sudden level of apparent power he had been given. He glanced back at the nightmare, which, now he noticed it, was much smaller than it had been the previous day. "Sure, go ahead."

Elsin grimaced slightly, but related the message. "It wants to take you with it, just for tonight. It says it has something to show you. It promises you will be returned safely. Ren, I urge you not to listen to it. It can mean you nothing but harm, I am sure."

"That may be so, Bartholomew," Salinthia countered smoothly, "but the _Iehkti'na _have expressed their desire to keep Ren alive. They cannot harm him, for they know as well as we do that the worlds will collapse if they do so."

"You can't be thinking of letting him go!" Elly burst out. "Are you mad?"

Letting the elders argue amongst themselves for the time being, Ren turned to the nightmare, which still loomed, vaguely threatening, behind him. He looked into its eyes thoughtfully. He was afraid, he couldn't deny it. The nightmares were frightening creatures at any time, and this particular one had a certain enigmatic pressure about it, possibly aided by the fact that it was three times his size and floating a few feet off the ground._ What do you want to show me?_ he asked, realising that it could read what he was thinking. It wasn't a very comforting thought.

_show world our world different_

"Ren!" Elly said sharply, jerking him out of his wonderings. "Are you awake?"

"Ah! Yes!" he said, shivering slightly as he turned back to face the elders. It wasn't cold in the council chamber, but Ren couldn't help but feel like he was encased in ice.

"What do _you_ want to do?" she asked, leaning forward and regarding him coolly with her sharp green eyes.

"Do _I_ want to go with it? Not . . . not really," he admitted. "But at the same time, I kind of think I should." _Wait, what am I saying? I'd have to be mad to go anywhere with this thing?_

"We highly recommend against it, _yehktira_," Elsin boomed. "We cannot trust these monsters. Although it has promised you will not be harmed, and they claim to want you alive for their own survival, a promise made by a creature such as this is worth nothing."

"How do you know that?" Ren asked, once again feeling as if the words weren't quite his own. "Up until just recently, you didn't even know they could talk! Its word could be just as good as yours."

A faint vibration of amusement passed through the room – clearly coming from the _Iehkti'na_ which had now moved to float beside Ren – though none of the elders reacted to what surely should have been a most unusual occurrence. _Does that mean I'm the only one who can feel it? _Ren wondered. _It's like this thing has two voices._

_double voice show world yehktira safe_

Elly's mouth twisted in disapproval. "While we do urge you not to accept what this _Iehkti'na _is saying, it is very specific in that it offers _you_ this deal, not us. It observes all our customs when making an offer, and as such, we cannot interfere or deny it the right to pass on its message. We can only warn you. The ultimate decision lies with you, _yehktira_."

Ren felt his brow crease almost involuntarily as he looked across at thegaseous blur floating beside him. It was formidable, yes, but in a non-threatening way. At least, that was how it seemed now. It had given him the fright of his life just minutes earlier, but now that he actually stopped to look at it, it didn't seem to be malevolent. In fact, it looked sort of like an overgrown Gastly, a Pokémon Ren had always been fond of.

"If I go with you," he said, speaking aloud for the benefit of the council, "you won't hurt me?"

_safe yehktira safe_

"It has already specified that, Ren," Elly said, but he ignored her. He had wanted to hear it again directly from the _Iehkti'na_.

"And you'll bring me back here afterwards so that I can return home?"

_safe return yehktira home glade_

Ren took that as a yes. He considered his options as Elsin, clearly unaware of the covert communication taking place in front of him, translated into the spirit language for the _Iehkti'na's_ benefit. _Do I trust the _Iehkti'na_? Probably not,_ he admitted. He was curious, though, about what the creature wanted to show him. What could it possibly be? And what reasons might be behind it? Did it want him to understand something that the spirits couldn't – or wouldn't – show him?

He briefly considered the possibility that it was a trap. All things considered, it didn't seem terribly likely. While it would be easy for the _Iehkti'na_ to seize him and hold him in the third ring once he left the Glade – much like Salinthia had threatened to do if the need arose – he didn't think that they would.

_But why wouldn't they?_

_safe promise keep always return_

_Do I take your word for it? _Ren thought, directing the question at the shadowy creature by his side.

_word always safe keep promise_

Ren sighed aloud. "I'm probably going to regret this," he said decisively, "but I'm going to go." Ignoring the protests of the council, he bit his lip and turned to the door. He couldn't quite explain what he was doing, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

_You had better be telling the truth,_ he said bitterly inside his head as the _Iehkti'na _breezed along beside him. _I'm going to feel like the world's biggest idiot if they turn on me here. I can't trust them._

At the door, he turned and glanced back. The council had descended from their thrones and stood in a huddle in the centre of the room, watching him go with varying degrees of worry and anger evident on their faces. Elsin in particular looked incensed at being ignored. Ren waved back at them, hoping to offer some reassurance. None of them looked particularly mollified, however, especially Elly, who was practically shooting knives at him from her eyes once again.

Outside the building, the nightmare moved ahead of Ren, leading him away from the centre of the Glade, weaving comfortably through the marble buildings as if it had lived there all its life. Ren noticed the spirits shooting it distrustful, angry looks as it passed. He himself was receiving a number of strange glances as he trotted to keep up with it, but he just nodded awkwardly at the spirits as he passed. It felt exceedingly strange to be walking through the Glade with an _Iehkti'na_ as his guide, of course.

Once again, he wondered what in the world he was doing.

At the edge of the Glade, the _Iehkti'na_ paused, seeming to observe the Spirit Wall for a few seconds.

"I thought your kind couldn't pass through here," Ren said, remembering one of the many things that had been bothering him since the other night's battle.

_wall hide wall let through_

"You mean . . . it just hides the Glade, but doesn't stop you from getting in once you find it?" Ren said with a frown, trying to decipher the creature's mysterious syntax.

_yes_

That was obvious enough, at any rate. "Where . . . where are we going?" he asked, taking a deep breath to calm his suddenly jumpy nerves. "You said you wanted to show me something," he tried again. "What?"

_world home origin centre_

The _Iehkti'na_, now at least six metres in diameter, passed through the Spirit Wall, causing a flower of red and green light to pulse from the point of contact, spreading out like ripples on water.

Swallowing heavily, Ren followed it.

As they passed through the forest, the _Iehkti'na_ spoke.

_ten days_

_Ten days?_ Ren replied silently, wondering if Elly's 'no talking in the forest' rule still applied – or even mattered. _What happens in ten days?_

_ten days die spirits_

_Is that . . . Nekros' ultimatum?_ Ren asked, tripping over a tree root and suppressing a curse. _Ten days for the spirits to surrender, or he kills them all?_

_all end finish time_

_Ragnarok_. The word floated across Ren's mind unbidden, and he shuddered involuntarily. _Is that it? Everything's happening so fast. What happens to me, then?_

_yehktira safe need world _

_Right_, Ren said, nodding. _That's what I thought. _It was a relief to hear it directly from one of the nightmares, too, rather than relying on a translation.

They walked – or rather, Ren walked, with the _Iehkti'na_ floating, almost unseen, beside him – in silence until they reached the edge of the forest, whereupon Ren found himself standing on the same hill that had housed Cicero's command centre during the battle the other night. The tent was still there, torn and crumpled as it was, with a couple of lonely metal struts reaching forlornly for the sky, shreds of canvas still clinging to them. Upturned or smashed desks were strewn everywhere, and pieces of paper fluttered around in a low breeze. It seemed that the spirits hadn't been back to clean up. Ren could hardly blame them. He had seen the looks on their faces after the battle; tidying up their mess would have been the least of their worries.

The _Iehkti'na_, even larger than it had been before, floated down the hill ahead of Ren, pausing at the bottom over the trampled, bloody field that had served as the battleground. Ren followed it awkwardly, stumbling a little on the uneven, torn ground.

He stopped next to the _Iehkti'na_, looking out across the gently rolling field that undulated softly away towards the horizon. A familiar light breeze tickled the grass, making it sway slightly. It was as if the entire expanse was shifting, the ground itself sliding back and forwards. Ren felt a little dizzy, so he forced himself to look instead at his enigmatic floating companion. "What's your name?" he asked.

_name speak difficult ancient_

"It's hard to pronounce?" Ren guessed. "Then what do I call you?"

_shadecolour close name_

"Shadecolour," Ren repeated. It was an unexpectedly sophisticated name, carrying a sort of melancholic beauty. He hadn't imagined that the _Iehkti'na _would have been capable of such poetry. "Is everything I know about you wrong?"

_wrong no different yes_

"Why do you have to kill the spirits?" Ren asked.

_prevent true home return come ancient chaos dreams_

Ren frowned, trying to make sense of this awkward jumble of words. Clearly Shadecolour didn't speak Ren's language quite as well as it did the spirits'. "They . . . prevent you from going home? Where is that? Oh! Maho's book said . . . you came from the first ring. Is that it? You just want to go back there?"

_home_

"But what was that about 'ancient chaos'?" he asked. There was something else happening here, evidently. Something the spirits hadn't told him . . . or something they didn't know themselves.

_come show home new_

Shadecolour moved again, drifting like a great black cloud across the battlefield, leaving Ren to follow it awkwardly across the ground. The going became easier, though, as he passed the area where the battle had taken place; the ground became smoother and emptier of debris and the grass was whole and free of scorch marks.

"How far do we have to go?" Ren asked after about five minutes of silence. "Will it take long to get there?"

_slow yehktira time yes_

"Hmm," Ren said. "I mean, I have all night, but isn't there some way we can get there faster?" He felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth as he realised the absurdity of his situation. He was chatting almost amicably with the giant black monster, completely irrelevant of the very real danger that he most likely faced. If he was entirely honest with himself, he liked Shadecolour better than some of the spirits he had met – not that the _Iehkti'na _had exhibited anything resembling a personality yet. That was a disturbing thought.

_faster ride wind_

Shadecolour's indistinct form bent and wavered, flattening and shrinking into a vaguely rectangular shape. It swooped down next to Ren, keeping pace with him as he stared at it in confusion.

"What are you meant to be? A magic carpet?" The black rectangle seemed to wiggle slightly in a gesture that might have been a shrug.

_ride come yehktira show home_

"You want me to . . . get on?" Ren asked, looking dubiously at the smoky, insubstantial form of the _Iehkti'na_ hovering next to him. "How am I supposed to do that?"

_ride fly swift_

Ren sighed. If it worked, it was bound to be faster than walking. He climbed awkwardly onto Shadecolour, wobbling slightly at the unfamiliar feeling. The _Iehkti'na_'s body gave slightly beneath him, but it seemed solid enough. He knelt uncomfortably on its back, leaning forward to seek a handhold. There wasn't one, so he just flattened himself against the creature's body as much as was possible, feeling thoroughly ridiculous.

_fly fly fly_

The sudden acceleration almost caused Ren to lose what little grip he had. Shadecolour climbed as it flew, whipping across the sky at a phenomenal speed. _Even Braviary would have no chance keeping up with this._

_speed fast fly _

_How am I even staying on? _Ren wondered, glancing over the side of Shadecolour – who, he was becoming more and more convinced, was secretly a magic carpet in disguise. The expansive grassy fields whizzed by at a great speed, and the wind battered at his exposed face in an attempt to tear him off and send him flying to his death, but he managed to hang on. He wasn't holding onto anything on Shadecolour's back, but still he remained firmly ensconced in his position. He settled down a little more and simply enjoyed the ride – for despite all his compunctions about going along with the _Iehkti'na_, there was something wildly exhilarating about the feeling of flying.

Gradually, Ren noticed a slight change in the terrain below him. The lushness of the omnipresent grass faded slightly, and patches of brown appeared. After a couple of minutes of high-speed flying, Shadecolour slowed down a little and descended a few metres, allowing Ren to take in more details from their surroundings.

_dead_

It was true. The grass below them now was yellowed and flaxen, growing in sparse, unhealthy-looking clumps.

_place death bad_

_Is this . . . is this where you . . . the _Iehkti'na _live?_ Ren asked.

_home dead_

Ren thought he detected a tinge of bitterness in Shadecolour's mental voice. Neither of them said anything more, and they flew in silence for another five minutes, the condition of the earth growing steadily worse. Even the golden sunlight shining from above seemed unable to lend any semblance of cheer to the earth. After a certain point, even that sunlight seemed to be swallowed up when it hit the ground, overcome by a blanket of darkness that seemed almost tangible.

_brothers sleep all thousands_

Ren's eyes widened as he realised what the inky black layer on the ground was: thousands upon thousands of _Iehkti'na. _The host that had pressed in against the spirits at the battle of the hill was now massed beneath him. They were crammed together so tightly that it was difficult for Ren to tell where one began and another ended. Even after realising what it was, the blanket of shadow seemed to remain just that. It was like a single gelatinous mass, oozing across the ground as if it were some kind of disease. _Are they the ones polluting the land like this?_

_not brothers land kill spirits kill_

Ren frowned. _It was the spirits? But . . . why?_

_spirits seal brothers break seal kill land die death_

Blinking, Ren shook his head. Maho's journal had said something about 'sealing' the spirits, albeit unsuccessfully. Was this where it had happened.

_here live nekros_

Ren tore his eyes away from the tide of _Iehkti'na _on the ground – which seemed to be getting thicker – and looked ahead. A large stand of trees thrust up from the dead ground, gnarled claws that lacked leaves. The trees were clustered tightly together like a giant thorn bush, and Ren saw as they approached it that the swarm of _Iehkti'na _were giving it a wide berth. _Fear? Or respect?_

_glade of dying light_

Shadecolour dropped to the ground in front of the trees, rippling in a way that indicated to Ren that he should climb off. The instant he let go, Shadecolour resumed its original form, that of the large, smoky sphere. Its green eyes returned as well; Ren could only presume that they had been on its underside during the flight.

"The Glade of Dying Light?" he said aloud, approaching the withered, blackened trunks with a creeping sense of dread. The whole place smelled of death, he realised instinctively. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to get as far away from that little grove of trees as he could, but he grit his teeth and forced himself to stay calm. There was a gap in the trees directly in front of him, and he willed himself to step towards it. His body didn't want to obey, preferring to stay right where it was, but he made a concerted effort and walked forwards.

At the treeline, he glanced backwards. Shadecolour was just behind him, and about ten metres further back, the edge of the _Iehkti'na_ army wavered imposingly. Even from this distance, Ren found that they looked more like a wall – easily five metres tall – peppered with glowing eyes than a group of individual creatures. Taking a deep, shaky breath, Ren stepped into the dark clutches of the trees.

Instantly, it felt as if his entire body had been plunged into an icebath. He gasped involuntarily as the cold hit him like a rime-caked sledgehammer, clutching at his bare arms. The thin blue t-shirt he had thrown on that morning did nothing to protect him from the chill, and he swore under his breath.

After just a couple of seconds, however, he noticed that there was no ice anywhere. No sign of precipitation of any kind, actually. For a moment, he wondered if it ever rained in the world of dreams, but then it occurred to him that the grass had to grow somehow – unless the rules were different here, of course. He would have thought, though, that there would at least be a little frozen moisture of some kind in such a cold place.

_Wait_. It wasn't cold anymore. Ren blinked, feeling rather foolish as he let go of his arms and glanced around. The apparent subzero temperature had receded almost as suddenly as it had come, leaving him baffled. He shivered slightly as he stepped forward again.

It only took him a few seconds to pass through the low, tangled corridor. At the other end, he stopped, blinking uncomprehendingly. The centre of the glade was cold, although not as freezing as the brief blast of cold air he had experienced on the way. The ground was covered in a layer of snow that refused to melt, even though the sun beat down upon it from almost directly above. In the centre of the glade lay a pool of liquid blackness about five metres across, and on the other side sat Nekros.

The giant, humanoid _Iehkti'na_ – some twelve metres tall – rested upon a mighty throne of sparkling, glittering ice. The throne was a work of art, carved into twisting, serpentine designs that twisted around each other all across its surface. Every edge and facet sparkled in the harsh sunlight, a deep, vivid blue that made Ren's eyes hurt to look too closely.

The other two giant _Iehkti'na_ that Ren had seen on the hill two nights ago with Nekros and Shadecolour – the massive spider with too many legs and the flat-headed quadruped – flanked Nekros' throne, watching him with keen eyes. As he observed them, Shadecolour floated down from above the trees to take a place on the other side of the spider-like nightmare.

Unsure quite what to do, Ren stepped forward towards the pool, his shoes crunching in the snow. He made sure to stay well clear of the edge, though; the liquid looked as though it might be dangerous.

_you are the yehktira welcome to the glade of dying light_

Ren looked up at where Nekros' face should be. Like all the others, it was featureless save for its eyes. It had three, he noticed again. One was set above the other two to form a triangle, and all three were fixed on him. "I-I am the _yehktira_, yes," he managed once he found his voice.

_you will forgive me for speaking directly to your mind our tongues are not made for your language_

"Of course," Ren said, at a loss as to what else he should say. Nekros' grasp of the language seemed to be far superior to Shadecolour's, and for that he was grateful. It was still a strange sensation, though. It was rather like the words were being _poured_ into his head in a continuous, liquid stream. "Might I ask . . . why you wanted me to come here?"

_to prove to you that we are not monsters_

"Monsters?" Ren said blankly. "To . . . to be honest, I've kind of steadily been losing that impression lately."

_good but you are not yet convinced for to you we seem barbaric and until recently this was true_

"Well," Ren admitted, "the _Iehkti'na _that Elly and I killed the first night I came . . . they weren't exactly . . ."

_they were small and weak and that is why they can pass to the second ring our sheer power prevents us_

_our sentience is a gift but also a curse for it comes with powerlessness_

_when one of us dies their essence returns here to the pool in front of you where a new being is created_

Ren glanced at the pool by his feet. "So the one I killed the other night . . . just came back to life again?" he asked. "That sounds . . . kind of pointless."

_it is indeed for you but for us it is nothing of the sort for we can absorb their essence at the point of rebirth to make ourselves stronger_

_this pool is why the spirits cannot destroy us_

Ren shuddered as he watched the evil-looking black liquid lapping at the ring of stones that formed the pool's border. "Whenever they try, you just . . . respawn," he said. It sounded like something out of a video game, even to him.

_twenty years ago we tried to crush the spirits again for but they had a massively destructive weapon that killed hundreds of us at once_

_they used this weapon four times and each time the victims' essences issued forth from the pool but because they all came forth at once they grouped into new larger stronger more intelligent Iehkti'na_

Ren's eyes widened. "You . . . you and Shadecolour, and the others . . . the spirits created you, then? But . . . so that's why you're smarter than the others? Because you're made from so many _Iehkti'na_?"

_that is so yehktira we are the sum of hundreds and so we are mighty we have waited twenty years for an opportunity to crush the spirits and now we have our chance_

"What I don't understand is why you have to do this!" Ren said, forcing as much strength into his voice as he could. "When you were mindless killers, I can understand. I mean, you hated the spirits for sealing you in the past, and you knew nothing other than killing them. But now that you're smarter than that, surely you realise you don't have to kill them? Revenge isn't the way to fix things!"

_this is no longer about revenge yehktira for we need to return to our homes_

_we were displaced by the spirits from our home in what you call the first ring over six hundred years ago and since then we have never been the same_

_we must kill all the spirits for they cannot understand we only want to return home and as such they stand in our way_

The finality of the statement made Ren shiver. "But . . . why haven't you tried to negotiate with them before? I mean, surely they could be made to understand." _I __seriously doubt it, though_, he added silently, remembering the rage he had seen on Elsin's face in the council hall when Shadecolour had appeared.

_until recent we be still weak_

Another voice chipped in, lighter and somehow sharper than Nekros or Shadecolour.

Nekros spoke again, indicating the spider-like _Iehkti'na _on Ren's right with a wave of his massive hand.

_this is my second known as frostspinner_

Frostspinner's light voice chimed in over Nekros' heavy one.

_it is good meet yehktira I must tell how_

_recent we weak still not absorb enough essence each time brother die absorb essence_

_now we strong_

"You absorb their essences? The ones who die?" Ren asked, and this time it was Nekros who answered.

_indeed and this is how we grow stronger yet you ask why we do not talk with the spirits_

_it was difficult but now at least we have a line of communication that is why we are willing to wait ten days before we move_

_in those ten days you must convince your friends to allow us safe passage to the first ring and we will leave them in peace_

_it is the best option for all surely as no further must die we know how attached these spirits are to their own kind_

"I can understand that," Ren said, nodding. Somehow, his fear had largely evaporated. He suddenly felt awfully bad simply for being afraid of the _Iehkti'na_. They weren't evil, he realised. The spirits had simply told him that they were because it suited them – or perhaps because it was what they themselves believed. "I'll talk to them. I'll get them to change their minds before the ten days are up."

_i like you yehktira you are perceptive you see things clearly where others may see only confusion_

_ten nights from now our army will arrive at the glade of shifting light for our answer_

_if it is not the one we want the spirits will die to a man and we will make our own way home_

_if they will help us we will travel with their portals and none need die remember this yehktira we are no savages_

_tell them yehktira tell them what they must do or it will end in a way that none of us want_

Ren swallowed with some difficulty, feeling his throat tighten as he nodded in acquiescence. "I will," he said, and he meant it. "But that aside . . . I think I owe you an apology. I believed that you were monsters . . . I thought you were mindless beasts like the spirits said. I'm sorry about that."

_there is no need for apology yehktira most of our number still remain that way and although they listen to us for the most part we sometimes cannot prevent them from running wild a little_

_we are indeed monsters in a way but we seek to change that all we want is to return home you will bear our message for they do not like to speak with us_

_shadecolour will take you back to the glade of shifting light now_

Ren almost protested. _I want to know more_, he tried to say. _I want to hear your stories! I want to really know where I stand!_

_there will be time for this later yehktira but now you must leave for i sense your time in this world is drawing to a close for the moment_

Ren smiled guiltily. He had forgotten that Nekros and the others could read his thoughts.

_come yehktira fly swift_

Shadecolour, seeming enthused, floated upwards again and out over the top of the Glade of Dying Light. Sensing that he was dismissed, Ren backed slowly away from Nekros and the others.

Nekros remained, unmoving, on his icy throne. When Ren reached the passage that had brought him into the Glade, he finally turned and walked forwards, out towards where he could already see Shadecolour waiting.

_fly quick safe promise return_

"Of course," Ren said, glancing more than a little nervously at the seething wall of _Iehkti'na_ that still surrounded the Glade. They still looked awfully threatening, roiling and writhing as they were. Paradoxically, the indistinct mass of smaller creatures outside the Glade were much more frightening than the giants inside it. "Couldn't you . . . take on a different shape?" he asked Shadecolour, remembering the experience he had had on the initial journey. While he had somehow, inexplicably managed to avoid falling off, it was still an experience he did not particularly want to repeat.

_fly shape bird wings_

"That would be better," Ren said as he watched Shadecolour morph again, its indistinct form splitting and shifting. When it stopped, it had formed itself into a passable likeness of a gigantic bird, perched on the ground next to Ren. It was still taller than he was, and it took him some effort to climb on, but once he was firmly entrenched on its back, he felt much safer than he had before.

_fly fly fly_

With an eerily silent flap of its wings, Shadecolour sliced its way into the sky, climbing more quickly this time so that they were a good way above the _Iehkti'na _horde.

As Ren watched the tide of _Iehkti'na _recede below him, growing thinner and thinner as the two of them passed over it, he marvelled once again at the sheer size of Nekros' army. The spirits would stand no chance whatsoever if the _Iehkti'na _decided to attack, he realised. While the spirits were clearly better fighters than the average _Iehkti'na_, they would eventually fall to the force of numbers, especially considering the fact that the _Iehkti'na _were reborn the instant they were killed. He wondered briefly if the spirits knew about that. There was no reason they would, he supposed. From what he had heard, they had been more than happy to stay in the Glade of Shifting Light.

_What if they did manage to survive, though? With Maho's magic and all the others fighting as well . . . no, it would only be a matter of time. Each death would be one sword they could never get back, whereas the _Iehkti'na _have their pool. And that's not even considering the four big guys._ He had only glimpsed the power of Nekros and the others at the battle of the hill, but he knew that there had to be a huge reserve of untapped power within each of them.

_strong four we_

Clearly, Shadecolour had been listening in on his musings. Ren smiled uncomfortably. _Yes, I'm sure you are_, he replied. Soaring a clear hundred metres above the grassy plains atop a giant bird made of shadows and magic, he felt a little like some sort of god. The thought chilled him slightly, but it sent a foreign tingle down his spine at the same time.

It didn't take long to reach the edge of the forest. Ren expected to touch down and walk the rest of the way, but Shadecolour kept flying, slowing down a little and dipping so that it skimmed the treetops.

_glade shifting enter difficult above_

_fun fly fast hold yehktira_

Eyes widening, Ren leaned forward against Shadecolour's back, wrapping his arms around the creature's barely-tangible neck just as it banked, climbing slightly and then aiming downwards again at a patch of green foliage that appeared much the same as any other. "What are you-"

The words were snatched from his mouth as Shadecolour dived. Folding its wings back, it plummeted almost vertically towards the trees. The wind screamed in Ren's ears as he clung on for dear life. Just as they were about to hit the trees below, however, a rainbow-coloured starburst exploded in Ren's vision, making his eyes ache briefly. He caught a brief glimpse of white marble and soft grass before the _Iehkti'na_ rolled in midair, corkscrewing madly through the sky above the Glade of Shifting Light.

Out of the corner of his eye, Ren could see a trail of glowing, multicoloured threads marking their trajectory like a jet trail. Shadecolour circled three times around the Glade, slowing down slightly with each complete revolution. When they finally came to land, there was a perfect spiral of splintered colour hanging in the air, fading slowly even as Ren watched.

His legs shaking slightly, Ren slid off Shadecolour's back. He forced himself to stay upright, though his body wasn't too keen on the idea. He staggered, but an arm was quickly thrust under his shoulders, removing the burden of staying upright from his confused limbs. He glanced across to see that it was Elsin's muscular arm that had caught him.

"Did it hurt you, _yehktira_?" Elsin rumbled, the thunder in his eyes and voice giving Ren the impression that he was longing for an answer in the affirmative just so that he had an excuse to try and kill Shadecolour.

"N-no," Ren managed to say, finding his feet once again and shrugging Elsin off to prove that he was all right. "I'm fine. It just . . . flew. I'm not great with flying." He hadn't realised how much hanging on he had been doing with his knees since Shadecolour had assumed its bird form, but the concerned body parts were telling him all about it now.

Shadecolour had returned to being an indistinct blob, and now it spoke aloud in the spirits' language once again, its voice issuing from somewhere deep within it. Elsin and the rest of the council – who had arrived just moments earlier – listened with tight expressions on their faces. Simultaneously, the _Iehkti'na_ spoke into Ren's mind.

_well meet yehktira ten days remember must_

_I know_, Ren said silently. _I'll talk to them._

Having said its piece, Shadecolour floated away, disappearing through the Spirit Wall without a further word. Red ripples flowed across the magical wall as it left.

"You're quite sure you're not hurt?" Cecilia said anxiously, hurrying over to grasp him by the shoulders and stare into his eyes.

"No, I'm fine," Ren said, gently lifting her hands off him as he turned to the rest of the council. "More importantly, I need to talk to you all urgently."

"Ten days, we know," Elly said. She looked a little more withdrawn than usual. "You need to go home now, Ren. We will deal with this."

"No, you don't understand!" He started to protest, but Elly cut him off with a sharp hand gesture.

"Yes, we do. You can't stay in this ring for too much longer, or it will adversely affect you when you leave."

"But-"

"Anything you have to say can be said tomorrow night, can't it?"

"Well . . ." He bit his lip. "I suppose that's true," he admitted.

"Then leave," Elly said, stepping aside to reveal the starry expanse of a portal to the second ring. "Now."

He wanted to say something else, to try and convince them. He looked around at all of their faces, hoping they wouldn't do anything rash while he was awake. Elsin was still smouldering angrily to one side; Cecilia was watching him anxiously; Elly and Salinthia both simply looked frigid as they nodded him towards the portal; and Lucius Balthazar was watching him with an oddly detached kind of interest. When he met Ren's eyes, he nodded slowly and turned away, heading towards the place where Shadecolour had passed through the Spirit Wall. _Can I trust them?_

_Of course not_, whispered a treacherous corner of his mind.

Ren stepped into the portal and let it suck him through to the second ring.

He was standing in Steven's library this time, although there was no sign of Katrina. _Of course_. Closing his eyes, he sank to the floor, his fatigue, confusion and newfound mistrust all suddenly piling themselves on his shoulders like a ton of bricks.

As the scent of the dusty red carpet invaded his nostrils, his outstretched hand found the edge of the portal to the first ring, yanking him through with a peculiar jerk from behind his navel.

"_I just don't get them," Ren grumbles to Afro Glameow. "Do you understand what's meant to be going on?" he asked._

_Afro Glameow yowls noncommittally, taking another lick of the sugar lump sitting in its saucer._

_Ren sighs and leans back on his hands, looking up through the twisting vines at the silvery sky that is just faintly visible through the riot of colour and foliage. "I didn't think so," he says quietly. "Whose side am I meant to be on now? Are there even any sides any more? Am I meant to be on one at all?"_

_As Afro Glameow yowls again, the silver sky begins to grow brighter and brighter, slowly draining the colour from the world around him. His mushroom has faded from vivid crimson to a dull blood-red, he notices as he looks down at it. Glancing back up at the sky almost blinds him._

_His cheek stings inexplicably, and he claps a gloved hand to it with a refined, gentlemanly curse._


	23. Festival of the Sky

**A/N**: The parabasis, like the parodos, is a specific part of the play in ancient Greek drama. The parabasis was where the Chorus would step forward and talk for a while about something that was usually entirely unrelated to the play itself - or tangentially related at best. While we're still most definitely in the world of Champion Game, this next arc is basically that - a departure from the seriousness of the last couple of chapters. As an inbetweener of sorts, this arc lasts five chapters, while regular arcs last eleven.

* * *

><p><strong>Arc 3 – Parabasis the First<strong>

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_Festival of the Sky_

Ren awoke sharply, something hard digging into his cheek. "Yeowch!" he exclaimed, rolling away from it instinctively and cracking the side of his head on the wall. "Ow, dammit," he muttered as he sat up, searching for the source of the pain.

It came in the form of Zangoose, who was still perched awkwardly on the edge of Ren's mattress, one claw extended towards where Ren's face had been just moments before. Ren stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before he remembered. "Oh! Right, I told you to wake me up if anything went wrong. But what . . . what's wrong?"

Ren glanced around the room, frowning slightly. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The usual Slateport morning sun streamed through the window, splashing familiar golden light across the floor.

"Oh. I see," Ren said at length. "Mom coming in and opening the curtains was enough to constitute an emergency. Well, fair enough," he sighed. "I should be getting up anyway. We're going to Fortree today."

Zangoose hissed in a manner that was almost contented before bounding out of the room and disappearing down the hall. Puzzled, Ren tumbled out of bed and made to follow him before realising he was still in his pajamas.

It seemed his mother had been shopping sometime in the last few days, because when he opened his wardrobe, expecting only to see his single change of clothes, the rack was full of clothes that most certainly would not have fit him five years ago. Remembering how windy Fortree had been the last time he had visited, he picked a pair of black jeans and a blue t-shirt with long sleeves, throwing a zip-up red hoodie and a short-sleeved tee into his bag as well just in case. They fit him remarkably well; his mother had always been good at guessing sizes, he remembered with a grin.

The morning sun in Slateport was powerful at this time of year, so he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he opened the window, letting the salty breeze counteract the heat somewhat.

_This stuff in the world of dreams . . . everything's happening so quickly_, he thought, the memories suddenly surfacing in his mind. That in itself was disturbing. If he couldn't remember what had happened as soon as he woke up, who knew what else he might be missing? Ren didn't remember dreams often, but his experiences in the rings were more than that, he was sure of it. The fact that the memories sought to evade him was worrying.

_I can't do anything now_, he told himself firmly. _I just have to worry about my life at the moment. _He felt kind of bad for ignoring his duties as _yehktira_, but there was really nothing he could do while awake. He had ten nights to convince the spirits to let the _Iehkti'na_ have their way. Ten nights would be plenty. _Won't it?_

He counted off on his fingers. Seven nights would put him at the following Monday, plus another three made Thursday. _The first day of the Unova League. Great._

_If the world ends, at least I'll die after my fifteenth birthday_. The morbid thought made him chuckle hollowly. _Some consolation that is._

Shaking his head in vague amusement, Ren went downstairs to face the day, doing his best to put all thoughts of Ragnarok and ultimatums from his mind.

"Thanks for the clothes, Mom," he said as he entered the kitchen.

"Ah, there you are, dear! Let me look at you – do they fit all right?"

"They fit fine, Mom," he said, lifting his arms and half-turning on the spot. "When did you find the time to go shopping?"

"I went yesterday while you were out training with Cole," she said. "And dear, while I do think he's adorable, your Pokémon is kind of getting in the way."

Ren glanced down to see Zangoose, obstinately seated right in front of the kitchen sink where his mother was trying to wash dishes. "What are you doing, you daft Pokémon?" he asked with a laugh.

Zangoose yowled hopefully, causing Ren to roll his eyes. "Of course. You're hungry. Now I think about it, everybody else probably is, too," he added as an afterthought, glancing at the other Poke Balls on his belt.

"Outside, sweetie," his mother said pointedly, tilting her head at the back door. "I got a big sack of Pokémon food when I was out yesterday. It's by the vegetable garden."

Ren shook his head in wonder. "You really do think of everything, don't you?"

"I've been a mother for fifteen years, Ren. It's what I do."

"Thanks, Mom. All right, you," he added, nudging Zangoose with his toe. "Outside, and stop bothering people."

The back garden had always been one of Ren's favourite places. Little more than a crevice between the side of the house and the sloping cliff face behind it, it was largely overgrown save for a few square metres that had been cleared directly outside the door. Half of that clear area had been dug up and planted with a variety of vegetables that grew well in the limited sun the area received – broccoli, chard, peas and beans, among others.

It was shady and cool at this time of the morning, offering a welcome change from the warmth of the sun inside. Ren let Camerupt out first, careful to avoid the vegetable patch. The others followed in quick succession, and Ren squeezed past them in the limited space to open the large cloth sack of Pokémon food. Finding a clean scoop nearby, he dumped large numbers of the bulky brown pellets into a stack of bowls of varying sizes that stood next to the food. _Absolutely everything_, he thought fondly, smiling.

"You guys'll have to eat out here while we're at home," he told them, putting another scoop in Camerupt's bowl. "There's no room inside. I'll look at clearing some more of this stuff away some time, actually," he said, kicking at the brambles and weeds that hemmed them in.

Camerupt snorted uncomfortably, and Ren grinned. "Yes, you can trample on it, but for the love of Arceus, stay off that vegetable patch. I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

After his own breakfast, Ren collected his Pokémon and headed for the front door. It was already eight twenty-five, and his ride was supposed to be arriving in five minutes. Not for the first time, he wondered what sort of ride it would be. Driving to Fortree would take all day, so that was out. Was he supposed to be flying? But then surely Gerard would have simply told him to go to the airport. Besides, there would have been no need for such secrecy.

"See you later, Mom!" he said quickly as he passed her.

"You're going now? When will you be back?"

"I . . . honestly don't know," Ren said. "It might be tomorrow, considering how long it takes to get to and from Fortree."

"Hmm. All right, honey. See you when you get back. Have fun, now!"

"I will," he promised. Opening the door, he stepped outside and almost crashed into something large and metallic standing on the garden path.

A grating squawk split the air, along with a slightly creaky flapping of enormous wings. Ren stepped back and looked upwards, meeting the sharp yellow eyes of the very large Pokémon blocking his front door.

"Skarmory," he said. "And one as big as you can only belong to one person . . ." He sidled awkwardly past the giant Flying-type – which stood fully twice as tall as he did – and looked up at its rider.

"Hiya, Ren! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Sure has, Winona," Ren said.

The Fortree Gym Leader grinned, swinging herself down off Skarmory's back with practiced grace. She still wore her favourite blue flight suit, he noticed, with her unnaturally lavender hair flowing out from under the cap. "It's good to see you, Ren. Congratulations on making Champion."

"Thanks," he said awkwardly. "It feels weird hearing you say that, you know . . . especially considering I never properly beat you in the first place."

"Ah, ah, none of that now," she said good-naturedly. "I know the official result came out as a draw, but I gave you the Feather Badge because I could tell you deserved it. Okay?"

"All right," Ren said. "I know, I know. You did tell me at the time, but it doesn't stop it feeling weird."

"Well, let's have a rematch some time," Winona suggested. "We can see if you really are better than me then. Oh, hello. You must be Ren's mother."

Ren blinked and turned around to see his mother standing in the doorway, obviously having heard Skarmory's screech. "Oh, Mom, this is Winona, the Fortree Gym Leader," he said.

"It's nice to meet you," his mother said, eyeing Skarmory nervously. "I'm Thalia Goodwin."

"Back up a little, Skarmory," Winona said quietly, tapping on the oversized Pokémon's side. It retreated a way down the garden path, making room in front of the door for all three of them. "I've come to steal Ren off you for a day or two, I'm afraid."

"Oh, that's all right, so long as you bring him back in one piece. It's remarkably nice of you to come all this way just to pick him up, though."

"Oh, I was in Dewford on business yesterday anyway," Winona said airily, "so I asked if I could drop in and bring him along to the Feather Carnival. The timing was perfect. Actually, speaking of timing . . . we really should be on our way now if we want to get there in time for the start of the festival. I'm sorry I couldn't stop for longer."

"No, no, I understand perfectly. Go on. Have fun!"

Winona turned to Ren. "Have you flown on a Pokémon before?" she asked. "I don't imagine your Braviary would be quite strong enough to ride on yet."

For a brief moment, an image of soaring across the third ring on Shadecolour's back flashed across Ren's mind. "Once or twice," he said.

"Up you go, then," said Winona. "I'll sit behind you so you don't fall off."

"Uh," Ren said, glancing up at Skarmory's towering steel flank.

"Oh, right," Winona said, the faintest edge of amusement in her voice. "I'll give you a leg up." Kneeling on the ground, she laced her fingers into a stirrup and gestured for Ren to step into them. When he did, she boosted him upwards, and he managed to scramble onto Skarmory's back.

It was certainly a different feeling to riding on Shadecolour, he could tell already. While the _Iehkti'na_ had been almost intangible, seeming to slip and give under his hands, Skarmory was all solid physicality and pointed edges. He felt more secure atop the Steel-type, but he wasn't sure it would be as good of a conversationalist.

Winona leapt expertly up behind him. "All right up there?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, suddenly not entirely sure. If he fell off Skarmory while it was in flight, there would be no question as to the outcome. Somehow, the threat had seemed less potent in the world of dreams, but in the light of day, he was very aware of how dangerous flying was.

"I've been flying on Skarmory for twelve years now, Ren. Nobody's fallen off in all that time," Winona said from behind him, as if reading his thoughts. "Come on, Skarmory! Hup!"

With a great screech, Skarmory leapt upwards, its great wings unfolding and beating powerfully. In seconds, Ren's house was as a toy against the cliff as the great Steel-type winged its way upward. Ren craned his neck backwards and waved in the general direction of his house, clinging to one of Skarmory's neck ridges with his other hand. Skarmory wheeled and corkscrewed upwards, soon clearing the cliff and setting its sights on the north.

"It's about an hour and a half from here to Fortree," Winona said, raising her voice to counter the wind blowing in their ears. "Talking up here's kind of impractical, so it's probably best if you just enjoy the view!"

Ren nodded to show that he understood; he was already looking down, searching for landmarks he recognised. After a few minutes, he spotted the Cycling Road below them, snaking back and forth over Route 110. He had biked the track a couple of times, but it was hard work, especially going uphill – an almost two-hour slog. Now he soared effortlessly over the twisting road, catching glimpses here or there of tiny cyclists making their way along one way or the other.

About forty minutes later, they passed Mauville. Skarmory's trajectory took them some way to the east, but Ren spotted the city's buildings glittering in the distance. _That's where the Contest is on Thursday_. The thought reminded him uncomfortably of Gerard's promise that he would get Ren to compete in a Contest some time. He wasn't too keen on the idea.

Soon enough, the terrain changed as they crossed a twisting blue river and passed over a heavily overgrown road that Ren remembered vividly from his time journeying around Hoenn on foot. Route 119, where it rained almost constantly. Thankfully, the sky was clear today, but there were some nasty-looking thunderheads hanging around on the horizon, and the wind was picking up. Ren shivered and held onto Skarmory's neck a little tighter. While flying was certainly exciting, it wasn't something he planned on making a habit out of. If he could fly by himself, like Braviary, he might consider it, but trusting his own life to the Pokémon beneath him rubbed him the wrong way a little. It wasn't that he didn't trust Skarmory and Winona, but it just felt awfully uncomfortable.

As it was, he was quite relieved when, some time later, the tangled, grassy expanse of Route 119 gave way to the treetops that signified the approach to Fortree. Looking down, Ren glimpsed flashes of activity through the trees as they soared overhead – spots of colour, people and Pokémon moving.

And everywhere there were Flying-type Pokémon. Fortree's natural ecosystem and lack of heavy industry made it a haven for many kinds of Pokémon, but those who took to the sky found a special place among its many levels of forest and brush. Pokémon native to the Hoenn region could be spotted everywhere; Taillow, Swellow, Swablu and Pelipper were among the most common, ducking and diving through the sky in apparent joy at the appearance of Winona and Skarmory. Ren glimpsed an Altaria floating peacefully past, as well as a variety of Pokémon from farther afield. Hoppip and Skiploom from Johto bounced past on a lively breezed, and a flock of Starly – recently introduced from Sinnoh – twittered madly in a particularly tall tree.

Before long, the leafy canopy split apart, revealing a wide area open to the sky. Ren was forcefully reminded of the Glade of Shifting Light, but Fortree's centre seemed infinitely more alive. Every inch of the large, open space was filled with people bustling around busily, setting up stalls, hanging strings of coloured bunting and – right in the middle – building a large circular stage. When Skarmory threw back its head and shrieked proudly, everybody below craned their necks upwards to see. Some waved as Skarmory circled down to the ground, and Winona waved back, leaving Ren unsure as to whether he should do the same. Suddenly, he was inadvertently the centre of attention again.

Winona slipped off Skarmory's back as soon as it landed, and Ren followed her awkwardly. They had landed right in the middle of Fortree's square, next to the raised stage that appeared to be in the latter stages of assembly.

"I need to help out with some of the preparations, Ren," she said quickly, rubbing Skarmory's head affectionately. "I'll be busy till about eleven thirty, when the Feather Carnival officially opens. I hate to drop you like this, but I promise I'll come back and find you later. I'll leave you with someone . . ." She tailed off, glancing around at the crowd of people that milled around them, many giving Ren curious looks.

"It's fine, really," Ren said. "I'll find something to do for a while."

"Nonsense," Winona said. "Ah, perfect. Karl!" she called, raising her voice and beckoning to a boy about Ren's age who was sauntering past with a lollipop stick poking from his mouth. "Karl, come over here for a minute."

Looking vaguely interested, the boy wandered over, sizing Ren up casually as he approached. Ren took the opportunity to do the same. Karl was a little taller than he was, with messy black hair that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in years, straggling its way down to his shoulders. His jeans were torn and his brown shirt looked like it had been splashed with yellow paint at some point in the distant past. "You're the new Champion kid," he said after a few seconds, drawling slightly as he spoke. His face betrayed none of his emotions.

"That's right," Ren said, deciding to play it safe. "I'm Ren Goodwin."

"Ren, Karl's a Pokémon Trainer too," Winona said. "I'll leave you with him for a while. Karl, show Ren around, all right? Try and keep out of trouble until the carnival opens, all right?"

"Whatever," Karl said, still not taking his eyes off Ren. "Come on, Champ." He turned and slouched off, not waiting to see if Ren was following.

Ren glanced doubtfully at Winona, who shrugged. "He's a good kid," she said. "Just a little grumpy sometimes. You'll get on fine, I'm sure."

"If you say so," Ren said, raising his eyebrows as he followed Karl into the crowd. When he caught up to the other boy, he fell into step beside him, unsure whether he should initiate a conversation.

Karl beat him to it. "I saw your battle on the news the other day," he said, ducking skilfully under a large beam of wood carried by two muscular Machoke. "Pretty good stuff."

"Thanks," Ren said. "So you're a Trainer too? Have you tried for the League?"

"Eh, that's not really my style," Karl said dismissively. He stopped beside an empty wooden stall and sat down on a bench, spreading his legs out casually in front of him. "Oi, sit down. I know Winona said to show you around, but you're just going to get stood on with people running round like this. There'll be time for that later."

Ren took a seat next to Karl on the bench, watching the proceedings going on around him with amazement. The entire square was filled with people, and it was a miracle that nobody was getting trampled on or brained with the large pieces of construction material that were being toted around. "Why is everything happening in such a rush? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Rained like hell yesterday," Karl said. "All this was meant to be done already, but the rain really made it difficult. We did what we could, but some things are just too dangerous when it's wet."

"I guess that makes sense," Ren said with a slight smile, watching a pair of Taillow hanging a string of coloured streamers between two trees nearby. "But you were saying that the League's not really your style . . . what do you mean by that? I thought just about everyone who trained Pokémon seriously was trying for the League."

"Not all of us, Champ," Karl said with a grin. "We have our own goals, and some of them aren't quite so lofty. Me, I wanna be a Gym Leader."

"That's not something you hear every day," Ren commented.

"You think that's funny?" Karl growled, suddenly belligerent.

"No, not at all," Ren said quickly. "It's just interesting. I mean . . . all the Trainers I met on my journey talked about going to the Pokémon League and becoming Champion. None of them had anything but that single-minded goal . . . I guess I was no different. But it's cool to meet someone who wants to do something else. Do you specialise in a particular type yet?"

"The Dark type," Karl said, sounding enthused. "They're just so cool, and they kick so much ass. And would you believe it, there's no Gym for them anywhere? Not here, or in Kanto, Johto or Sinnoh. Not even overseas in Unova!"

Ren frowned as he racked his memory. "Now you mention it, you're right," he said with some surprise. "I wonder why that is."

"I bet there's just nobody who's tank enough to train them properly," Karl said with a derisive laugh. "If you want to train Dark-types, you have to be a total badass. The only people I've heard of who specialise in them are Sidney from the Elite Four here, Karen from Johto and Grimsley from Unova. They're all Elites, though. They were just too awesome to start a Gym, so they went all the way."

"You don't want to go all the way?" Ren asked curiously. "Why just settle for being a Gym Leader?"

"It's not about 'settling', really," Karl said, looking pensive. "I just reckon being a Gym Leader would be so much more fun. Elites don't get to battle as often. They take one challenger a year, mostly, and I guess they battle each other for practice every now and then, but a Gym Leader gets to battle all the time. And there's so much other cool stuff you get to do, as well!"

"I guess you're right," Ren said. "I'm in the same boat as the Elites, I guess. Not much battling to do. I mean, who's going to battle me? I can't accept official challenges, and I'm kind of . . . at a place where there's nobody else on my level. It makes me sound a bit stuck-up to say it, but . . ."

"Lonely at the top, huh?" Karl said. "See, there's why. That's why I want to be a Gym Leader. You get to be right in the thick of it all the time."

"Nah, being Champion has its perks," Ren said. "I get to come and see cool stuff like this, for one." He waved at the increasingly frantic activity that was still taking place all around them. Things were coming together at a remarkable pace, he noticed. Coloured signs were being stapled to stalls, the last few boards were being hammered into place on the main stage, and the chaotic tangle of streamers and flags overhead had been transformed into an elaborate lattice of colour that left plenty of open space – for flying, Ren presumed. People were standing on stepladders and hanging unlit lanterns on wires and poles, he noticed.

"Yeah, this is pretty neat," Karl said, his voice softening slightly. "The Feather Carnival is the biggest event on Fortree's calendar, you know. Everybody pitches in to help out, even outsiders like me."

"You're not from here?" Ren asked.

"Well," Karl said, "I've lived here for five years, so I'm pretty much part of the family."

Ren was about to ask where Karl had originally come from, but something in the other boy's dark blue eyes – which refused to meet Ren's – told him that it would be a bad idea. Instead, he steered the conversation back towards previously established safe ground. "You said you want to specialise in Dark-types, right? How's that going for you? You've been collecting them?"

"I have two," Karl said. Suddenly his eyes lit up, making him look unexpectedly young. "Want to see them?"

"Of course," Ren said. "I don't think we'll have time – or room – for a battle right now, but-"

"Oh, _hell_ no," Karl said with a laugh, standing up. "I'm not even gonna think battling you. Not with the team I have right now."

"Fine," Ren said. "Let's just see them, then."

"Come on, we'll move out of the way first," Karl said, glancing around. "We're in the way too much as it is, and Pokémon running around will just make us more annoying. Come with me." He led Ren back past the stall that they had been sitting in front of. He crashed through some undergrowth for a few seconds, Ren following awkwardly, until they came to another road running horizontally in front of them.

Ren's heart lifted as he saw the treehouses of Fortree for the first time in two years. While a good number of the city's buildings were earthbound, especially the larger ones, there were still many people in Fortree who felt the need to be closer to the sky – and to the trees. Small, lightweight buildings were built on platforms attached firmly to the branches of one or more trees at various heights. Rope ladders and makeshift staircases were the norm, and a vast number of rope bridges criss-crossed through the canopy.

Karl skidded down an embankment to the road, which was entirely deserted save for a few people hurrying towards the square about fifty metres away. Ren followed, feeling vaguely uneasy. It wasn't often he found himself standing on a road with no traffic or pedestrians in sight. Then again, roads in Fortree hardly felt like roads at all. They were hard-packed earth, not tarmac or gravel; they hardly ever saw vehicles heavier than a bicycle. Hidden beneath the canopy as it was, Fortree existed in a perpetual state of leafy gloom that somehow managed not to seem gloomy at all. The shade from the trees that grew all through the city meant that it was cool at ground level, and the whole city was filled with the scent of life – leaves, earth and bark.

_I love it here_, Ren realised suddenly, hearing the sounds of hectic construction and preparation fade away behind him as he moved away from the square. _This city is amazing, not least because it's more alive than any town I've ever been in._

"You awake, Champ?" Karl asked.

"What? Oh, right. Sorry. I was just . . . daydreaming," Ren explained. It was largely true. He had an picture in his mind's eye of moving to Fortree some day, spending the rest of his life among the trees with his Pokémon.

"Never had much patience for dreamers," Karl said, fiddling with the two Poke Balls at his belt.

"Isn't that what we were just talking about, though?" Ren asked, puzzled. "How your dream was to be a Gym Leader?"

"Well, sorta. But I'm working at it. It's not just a dream – more like an inevitability."

"That's . . . good," Ren said, unsure how else to react. There was something admirable about Karl's dedication, even if he covered it up with a rough exterior. _He doesn't seem to be trying too hard to hide it, though_, he thought silently. _But when he was talking to Winona, he was so grouchy. What's with that?_

"So," Karl said after a few seconds of tense silence. "Want to see the team?"

"Yeah!" Ren said. He was interested to see what kind of Pokémon a person like Karl would raise. _Dark-types, obviously. But what sort?_

With a loud _crack_, Karl opened the first Poke Ball. A small purple creature appeared by his feet, vaguely goblin-like in appearance. Its eyes literally appeared to be sparkling blue gems, and it had a mouthful of wicked-looking teeth in its disproportionately large head. "My Sableye," he said proudly. "Caught him on Dewford Island. He's a real trooper. Half Ghost-type too, so he doesn't take many bad hits – if you can even hit him, that is." Giggling madly, the Pokémon faded almost completely from view in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the trees.

Ren knelt down to inspect the Pokémon – what little he could see of it, anyway. "Sableye are quite rare," he said as it faded back into visibility. "You did well to catch one, and he's a big specimen too. They're usually a little more fragile than this one, I think – he's pretty bulky."

Karl seemed pleased with the praise, but Ren could tell he was trying to hide it. _Why would he do that?_ "You want to see my other one?" he asked, clearly making an effort to curb his eagerness.

"Sure," Ren said.

Another _crack_, and a much more familiar Pokémon sat before Ren on the road, cocking its head suspiciously at him as it regarded him with wary red eyes. Its fur was black and grey, shaggy but well-looked after. A long, warped scar ran across its muzzle and right up to its left eye. "This is Scar the Mightyena," Karl said, an extra note of pride evident in his voice this time.

"Original," Ren muttered as he reached out to pet the canine Dark-type. Its eyes followed his hand like laser trackers, but it consented to let him scratch it behind the ears, which it seemed to enjoy well enough. "Your first Pokémon?"

"You can tell?" Karl seemed surprised.

"Not hard, really," Ren said. "There's cues from both you and the Pokémon. Little things like the way Sableye stands facing ever so slightly away from you, like it's not quite comfortable with you yet. It's not as skittish as a recent capture would be, but it certainly speaks of a Pokémon that's used to being a third wheel. That's probably not good, actually. You should probably make sure to look after Sableye a bit more so it doesn't feel left out."

Karl was staring at him, his mouth slightly open in disbelief. "You're screwing with me, right? You can tell that after just a few seconds?"

"So it's true?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I do use Mightyena more often than Sableye."

"It's not so much about how often each Pokémon gets to battle," Ren said, standing up and looking Karl in the eyes. "Some members of my team get used more than others, and I'm sure any top-tier Trainer would tell you the same. It's okay to play favourites a little bit. Everybody has a Pokémon that's special to them. For me, it's Zangoose. But all you need to do is make sure your others get the attention they need."

"I-I see," Karl said quietly. "I'll . . . I'll do that."

"Good," Ren said brightly, checking his watch. "Shouldn't we be getting back to the square about now? It's five to eleven."

"Yeah, let's do that," Karl said.

Ren watched the other boy with no small interest as he returned his Pokémon and led the way back towards the square. Karl was hiding something, he was sure of it. He didn't know what – it might not even be anything major – but there was no question that there was something that needed to be brought out into the open if he ever wanted to be a Gym Leader.

In the square, the majority of the preparations seemed to be complete. Vendors were stacking crates of drinks and making last-minute adjustments to displays, small children dashed about excitedly and Winona was visible on the central stage with Skarmory.

Karl jerked his head towards the stage questioningly. "You wanna go over there? Looks like they're about ready to get underway."

"Sure." Ren nodded, and the two of them began forging their way through the crowd.

When they reached the stage, Winona noticed them and extended a hand to pull Ren up next to her. "Come on, Champion," she said with a slightly mischievous smile. "Do you feel up to making a speech?"

"A speech?" Ren shook his head quickly. "I can't do that!"

"Well, I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice," Winona said. "Steven told me you're to make a speech whether you like it or not."

Ren cursed under his breath. "That guy, honestly . . ."

"Come on, it's easy," she said, her voice taking on a slightly kinder tone as she appeared to notice his distress. "I'll do the buildup and then hand it over to you. You just have to say a few words about how happy you are to be here and then declare the Feather Carnival open. Simple!"

As Winona turned away briefly to talk to somebody else, Ren felt something hit his lower leg. He looked down in surprise to see Karl glaring up at him.

"You pussy out here, you're worth nothing," he said, his words audible only to Ren due to the noise of the crowd. "Got it?"

Ren laughed despite himself. "Got it," he said. Inexplicably, he did feel better.

_Here we go again_, he said silently. _This is the time when I stop worrying about stupid things and just do it._ He took a deep breath, tilting his head back to look at the sky. As always, several of the ubiquitous Flying-type Pokémon wheeled overhead, relaxed and loose. He could learn a thing or two from them at times like this, he supposed.


	24. Soar

**A/N**: Posting quickly to catch up - only four chapters behind now. I'll try and put one out every other day till then.

Also, ZOMFG! Drama!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Four<strong>

_Soar_

"The Feather Carnival will be underway in just a minute!" Winona said, speaking into a microphone someone had handed her. Her voice boomed out from speakers arrayed strategically around the square. Drawn by her voice, the residents of Fortree and the multitude of tourists that had been milling around aimlessly began to converge in front of the stage.

Ren could feel their eyes on him. At least half the crowd had recognised him, he was certain of it. While their attention was still largely on Winona, he knew that wouldn't last. Any minute now, he would be the centre of attention. Near the front of the crowd, he caught a glimpse of Karl's scowling face again. Rather than worry him, though, it paradoxically made him feel better. _I told myself I was going to get over this_, he chastised himself silently.

"We have a very special guest here at the Feather Carnival with us this year," Winona was saying. "Folks, I want you to meet Ren Goodwin, the newest Champion of the Hoenn League."

Ren smiled and waved. It wasn't so hard. The people of Fortree cheered as he gave them an awkward bow, thinking it the polite thing to do. With a start, he realised that Winona was handing him the microphone.

"It's easy," she reminded him in a whisper.

For the first time, Ren believed her. "Hello, Fortree City!" he said brightly, letting the trees and the atmosphere of the city itself lend him strength. "I've just got to say that it's amazing to be here right now. The last time I came through here was a little over two years ago, when I stopped by to challenge your Gym Leader." He glanced over at Winona, who winked. "It was about a fortnight out from that year's Feather Carnival, but I had to move on to the next Gym in a bit of a hurry. I really regretted missing that opportunity, so of course I was excited to come along this year. I still have no idea what to expect, though, so I hope you'll help me out."

Ren paused for a moment, suddenly aware that his heart was pounding. A crowd of friendly humans in the mood for a party shouldn't have been scarier than a horde of _Iehkti'na_, but somehow they were. Even so, he was surprised with how well he was doing. He sneaked another look across at Winona, who nodded, seeming pleased. _Whenever you're ready_, she mouthed.

"Well, I for one can't wait for this thing to get started, so I suppose we should get underway," he said, a suggestion which was met with roars of approval from the crowd. "In that case, I, um, declare the Feather Carnival officially open!"

A blast of loud music from behind him almost caused Ren to lose his balance. Somehow, a large brass band had sneaked up onto the stage without him noticing, and now they started playing all at once, a lively showtune with a hefty beat that could be heard even over the noise that the crowd was making.

A multitude of screeches, squawks and chirps from overhead alerted him to the sudden presence of hundreds of Pokémon soaring back and forth across the square – startled by the noise or deliberately released at his unknowing cue, he wasn't sure. There were Flying-types of all shapes and sizes, winged Bug-types and even the uncommon sight of a Charizard soaring ponderously overhead. On the spur of the moment, he reached down to his belt and plucked two particular Poke Balls off it. He wasn't normally one for showmanship, but he figured he could make an exception just this once. Tossing the two Poke Balls high in the air, he shouted, "Fly!"

Yanmega and Braviary appeared in mid-air, leaving the Poke Balls to fall back to the ground, where Ren caught them and reattached them to his belt. The appearance of the Champion's Pokémon elicited a further cheer from the crowd as they spiralled upwards to join the multitude of Flying-types that already wheeled in the sky.

Leaving them to it as the crowd quickly dispersed to all corners of the square, Ren crossed back to Winona and handed her the microphone. "That was . . . not so bad, actually," he admitted.

"Easy?" she queried, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, it was," he said. "You win. It was still hard, though. If that even makes any sense."

"Ren, I've been the Gym Leader in this town for seven years now," Winona said seriously as she led him down off the stage. "When I first took up the position, I was really surprised by how much I had to do stuff like this – public appearances, taking challenges and all that. From what I gather, you're a lot more freaked out by it all than I was – and that's fair enough, because you're four years younger than I was when I became the Gym Leader – but if it makes you feel better, you're doing a far better job of it than I did. I saw you on _Hoenn Buzz _the other night, and I was just as impressed then as I was now."

"You mean that?" Ren asked curiously. "Because you know, ever since I started doing this thing a couple of days ago, it seems that it's just been one massive string of screw-ups. I sort of stumbled through the press conference after the Championship match, mumbled through _Hoenn Buzz_ and fumbled my way through the class at the Academy in Rustboro. I just have no idea what I'm doing."

"That sort of thinking really isn't good for you, you know," Winona said disapprovingly. "I'm relieving you of your Champion duties for the rest of the day. Have fun, all right? I'm sure it's been hard these last few days, so just take today to unwind. Eat some hot dogs, play some games, win a few prizes and make some friends. Be . . . be a normal kid for a while, okay?"

Ren couldn't say anything for a moment. He didn't really know _what_ to say. "You planned this, didn't you?" he said at length.

"Of course I did. I remember the day when you came through my Gym like it was yesterday. I wasn't sure then whether you'd make Champion, but I knew that if you did, you'd have a real hard time of it. Was I right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, you were," Ren said.

"Okay, then. I'll hear no more against it. Do what you like for the day. Go along with Karl – he'll show you around the carnival. I'll see you back here just before dusk, but until then, you're free."

Karl shoved his way through the crowd to stand next to them, looking sulky once again. Ren frowned slightly, but simply made a note to ask the other boy about it later. "Come on, Champ," he said, seeming supremely unenthusiastic. "Let's go see the carnival."

Ren paused a moment before following Karl through the crowd. "Thanks, Winona," he said, a confusing mixture of gratitude and irritation bubbling within him. While on the one hand, he was definitely grateful for her understanding, he couldn't help but feel that she was patronising him a little bit. Deciding to take her at face value for the moment, he pushed his way through the crowd in the direction Karl had gone.

"Don't run off on me like that," he said when he caught up to the other boy, who was eyeing up a shooting game stall with evident interest.

"It's your fault for not being quick enough," Karl grumbled. "Here, let's have a go at this to start with."

"I don't think I'd be any good," Ren said uncertainly, looking worriedly at the toy rifles lined up across the front of the stall.

"Half a dozen shots on the house for the new Champion," suggested the jolly-looking fellow manning the stall. "And his friend too, if you like."

"Wicked!" Karl said eagerly. "Look at that, hanging out with you has its perks after all!" He stepped forward and picked up one of the toy guns, aiming it at the garishly coloured targets on the back wall of the stall.

Ren hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and picked one up himself, weighing it carefully in his hands. It felt strange to be holding a weapon, even one as garish and fake as this. He had only ever seen real guns in books, and he'd never been one for toy guns. Nevertheless, he hefted it gamely, standing behind a line drawn on the ground in front of the stall and sighting down the barrel.

His first shot flew high, the gun kicking unexpectedly in his hand. Readjusting his grip, he sent his second shot wide. His third went wider still, but his fourth flew relatively straight, cracking against the back wall of the stall between two of the targets.

"Holy crap, you suck," Karl laughed. "You plan on hitting something?"

"I wish," Ren said, frowning down the barrel. His fifth shot flew wide again, missing the stall entirely. His sixth narrowly missed the largest of the targets. "Oops. Well, thanks," he said, handing the gun back to the stall's proprietor.

"All right, move over and let a real man give it a go," Karl said, shouldering Ren out of the way as he stepped up to the mark.

Ren almost laughed at the serious look on Karl's face, but he thought better of it and remained silent. For at least ten seconds, nothing moved except the tip of Karl's toy rifle, wavering slightly up and down as he eyed up his target.

Suddenly, there was a series of sharp _cracks _as Karl fired all his pellets in quick succession. Five of the paper targets in the stall were knocked off their perch, and the last round narrowly missed a sixth.

"Good shooting," Ren said with some surprise.

Karl frowned. "I missed one. What do I win?"

The man running the stall blinked in apparent shock. "Five out of six gets you anything off the top shelf . . . except I haven't stacked the shelf yet. They're all still in the boxes round the back. I'll open them up for you."

"What sort of prizes do you get at things like these, anyway?" Ren asked Karl as the man bustled around behind the stall and dragged out a sizable crate.

"Stuffed Pokémon toys, usually," Karl said, sounding less than enthused.

"Not your thing?" Ren asked.

"Hardly."

In the end, Karl picked out a large plush Mightyena that, while impressive, looked much less fierce than Scar. Ren had to grin at the sight of the grouchy teenager wandering around the carnival with a three-foot-long stuffed toy under one arm.

Three hours passed quickly at the Feather Carnival. Many of the stall owners and salesmen recognised Ren and offered him free shots, throws or sweets. Ren soon discovered that he was absolutely terrible at all sorts of carnival games, although he picked up a good number of consolation prizes. By two o'clock, he was wearing a winged hat and a pair of aviator's gloves, his Pokenav had a colourful sleeve printed with Swellow, and his bag had half a dozen helium balloons of various colours and sizes attached to it.

Karl had refused to take part in most of the games since winning his Mightyena toy, which, Ren noticed, he still carried under one arm. He seemed to be enjoying the benefits of Ren's presence in scoring free food, though.

Hands full of hot chips, soda and candy floss, Ren nudged Karl with his elbow and indicated that they ought to sit down somewhere. They found their way through the festival-goers until they reached a small open area ringed with benches. In the centre, a tall, thin man was doing juggling tricks with his Scyther. Sitting down, Ren watched with interest as the Scyther batted several brightly coloured rubber balls into the air with the sides of its massive claws, keeping at least ten of them moving at once while its Trainer juggled a further six or so. Even as Ren watched, they began tossing them fluidly back and forward between each other, causing the small crowd sitting on the benches to clap enthusiastically.

"This is nice," Ren said. "I can't remember the last time I went to a carnival like this."

"They're not as common nowadays as they used to be, I hear," Karl said. "My mom always talks about the travelling fairs they had when she was a kid, but there just aren't any of them around. The Feather Carnival isn't the only one – there are a couple others – but it's the only one that comes around like clockwork every year. Only here in Fortree, though, of course."

"Why is that?" Ren asked. "I mean, I get that it's a special thing for people here, but I never really asked why. Something to do with all the bird Pokémon, I guess."

"Yeah, that's about it, actually," Karl said. "Folks here love Flying-type Pokémon. I mean, come on, they build their houses in trees just so they can live closer to them! Fortree and Flying-types have been real tight for hundreds of years. Every year, they hold this carnival to celebrate that relationship."

"You talk about it like an outsider," Ren said, craftily noting the opportunity to give Karl a gentle push. "You said you'd lived here for five years. How come?"

"What? A guy can't live where he wants?" Karl said, suddenly on the defensive.

"That's not what I mean," Ren said, wondering if he'd been too direct. He changed tack slightly, steering away from Karl's past a little. "If you're training to be a Gym Leader, wouldn't you want to be, you know, travelling around? Catching more Dark-types and battling all different kinds of Trainers?"

"Well . . . I have been doing both of those, sort of. I get the battling practice I need at Winona's Gym. I battle some of the Trainers who come in to challenge her. Some of them want a warm-up, others want the extra practice themselves. Some just want to show off. But they come from everywhere, and they have all kinds of different Pokémon."

"Don't you have to use Flying-types to be an apprentice at the Gym?" Ren asked, frowning.

"Normally, yeah, but Winona made an exception for me while I'm here. It was great of her to help me out like that, but don't you dare tell her I said that!"

"Sure, sure," Ren said, wondering again why Karl was so keen to give Winona the impression that he didn't like her. "But what about catching Pokémon?"

Karl sighed, leaning back on the bench and staring up at the treetops that surrounded the square. "I came here, to Fortree, when I was eleven," he said quietly. "I was doing just what you expected – travelling around and battling, training and trying to catch new Pokémon. I came here because I'd heard rumours of a certain rare, powerful Dark-type Pokémon that hung around in the forest around here. You know it?"

Ren nodded. Suddenly, a number of things began to make sense. "Absol, right?"

"The Disaster Pokémon," Karl recited. "Rumoured to sense impending disaster with its horn, it naturally became a target for collectors. The few small populations of Absol across the world withdrew into wild areas like the forests near Route 120, and they only emerge when great danger threatens. I've spent five years of my life trekking through those woods, trying to find one. I swore to myself I wouldn't leave until I caught one."

"You want one that badly?" Ren asked.

"Hell yes, I want one that badly," Karl said forcefully. "I'd be unstoppable with a Pokémon like that! And imagine the prestige that would come with owning one! They're unbelievably rare!"

Ren thought about this for a moment. "Are those . . . are those your reasons?" he asked seriously. "Because it doesn't sound like-"

"Look, spare me the lecture," Karl said, waving his hand dismissively. "I've heard it all from Winona, not to mention everybody else I told this to. I know what I want, and I know why I want it. That'll have to be good enough for you. Alright?"

"Fine," Ren said. "I won't criticise the way you do things. Arceus knows I get mad enough at people who complain about my methods, so it'd be unfair of me to do it to you."

"The hell?" Karl said. "Who criticised _you_? And what for?"

"Nothing major, really," Ren said. "That's the worst part, really. A while back, I met some people who really disagreed with how I battled. Not because they thought it was unethical or any of that crap, but . . . well, they were purists. They thought Pokémon battles should be 'instinctual and beautiful in their intransitiveness', I think it was. They didn't like how I took everything to pieces and analysed everything when I battled."

Karl gave him a skeptical look. "You're screwing with me, right? Nobody's that anal about battling."

"I'm afraid not," Ren said, his mouth twisting as he remembered. "I got into some trouble with a bunch of them a while back. After my loss at the Ever Grande Conference last year, but before I went back to compete again a month ago. It was . . . messy."

"Don't wanna talk about it?" Karl asked.

"Pretty much."

"Fair enough. Everyone's got stuff they don't want to talk about," Karl said pointedly.

Ren sighed. "Fine. I won't ask you about where you came from."

"Oh, I'm from Fallarbor. It's not _where_ I came from that bothers me. It's _why_ I left."

"Then all right," Ren said. "I won't mention it again. I wouldn't mind knowing why you don't want to talk about it, but finding that out would probably involve, you know . . ."

"Talking about it," Karl finished. He looked at Ren for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Dumbfounded, Ren watched him for a few seconds before joining in. It hadn't even been particularly funny, but in the sunlight and cheer, surrounded by people having fun and talking peacefully with someone who might be considered a friend, everything seemed magnified somehow.

"Hey," Karl said when he managed to calm down eventually. "I think they set up a haunted house down the west end of the square. Want to go check it out?"

"Sure," Ren said. "I've finished eating, so let's go." He stood up, applauding one more time for the juggler and his Scyther, who were just finishing up a turn, and stepped over the bench.

Karl swore, patting his belt as he stood. "What the hell? My Pokémon!"

"What? You lost them?" Ren said.

"I didn't _lose_ them!" Karl growled; he scanned the area, one hand shading his eyes from the sun. "I keep them attached with powerful magnets, just like any sensible Trainer. They don't just _fall off_!"

"So someone stole them?" Ren said incredulously. "Do you have any idea who? How long have they been gone?"

"I don't damn well know, do I? I had them when I sat down just now," Karl said, clenching and unclenching his fists as he paced back and forth, glaring around at passers-by.

"If someone stole them, they're probably well away by now," Ren said, checking his own belt just in case. All six Poke Balls were present, though Yanmega and Braviary were still probably flying around somewhere. "We should go and tell Winona, at least."

"Winona? What the hell is she going to do?"

"More than you are right now, at any rate," Ren said decisively, grabbing the other boy's arm and pulling him towards the centre stage.

Even as they approached the stage, Ren saw Winona swooping down on her Skarmory with a small girl of about eight seated in front of her. He climbed up onto the stage, practically dragging Karl behind him, as the Gym Leader returned the girl to her parents.

"Oh, hello, Ren!" she said brightly when she spotted him. "Been having fun?"

"Well, yes, but not right now," he said urgently, stepping in close to talk in a low voice. "There's a thief about. Someone stole Karl's Pokémon!"

"What? Are you sure?" she asked, directing the question at Karl. She looked positively horror-stricken.

"Positive," Karl growled. "And when I find the son of a Bidoof that did it, I'm going to punch his face out the back of his skull."

"No, you aren't," Winona said sternly. "We're going to find whoever it is and we're going to hand him over to the police. Now, I might put an announcement over the PA, but that could panic people, which we don't want. For the meantime, I'll just get the apprentices from my Gym on it, as well as the police who are stationed around the carnival. They'll be able to keep an eye out for suspicious characters, though I don't know how obvious our thief will be."

"That's all we're going to do?" Karl asked.

"That's all we _can_ do, Karl," Winona said firmly. "If we alert everyone here, not only will people panic, but the thief will know we're on to him and probably leave. Then we'll never find him. Is that what you want?"

"No," Karl said, rolling his neck restlessly. "But what are we going to do, then?"

"The thief might strike again today – you might not even have been his first target. The best thing we can do is be on high alert, watching for any suspicious activity."

"Couldn't we just go up to everybody and make them bring out all the Pokémon they have on them?" Karl said. "Then we'd be able to find who has my Sableye and Scar!"

"Remember what I said about not panicking people, Karl?" Winona said mildly. "Besides, do you really think the person who stole your Pokémon would walk around wearing them on his belt?"

"He might," Karl said, but Ren could tell he'd been stung. "For Arceus' sake, I just want to hit someone! Preferably the ass who took my Pokémon, but if we don't find him soon it'll have to be you, Champ."

"Me?" Ren yelped, stepping hastily away from Karl. "Easy on."

"None of that, Karl," Winona said, a slight edge creeping into her voice for the first time. "You two just keep wandering around the carnival for now. I think I have an idea . . ."

"You seriously think this is a good idea, Ren?" Karl asked anxiously.

"Using me as bait? Of course it's a good idea," Ren said with false confidence. "It's no secret that the Champion is here today. To a thief like that, nobody's Pokémon are worth stealing more than mine. Winona's right – they probably just want to sell them, and I have some pretty rare – or powerful – Pokémon on me. If they're looking for a target, I'm pretty much the best one."

"But you were with me before when they stole mine," Karl said. "They'll expect you to be on guard."

"They will if I'm with you," Ren said. "If we went our separate ways before you noticed Sableye and Scar were gone, I still might not know. So tag out. Got somebody else I can wander around with?"

"Wouldn't you be an easier target on your own?" Karl asked.

"Hmm, that's true," Ren said. "You go back with Winona and I'll just wander around by myself, then. I'll call you if anything happens."

"I'm not giving you my Pokenav number," Karl said with a frown.

"Winona did, because she knew you'd be like that," Ren said, grinning back. "Now go on back," he said, talking over the other boy's protests. "I'll get your Pokémon back. I promise."

Karl hesitated. "Uh . . . thanks," he said.

"Every second you hang around me is a second the thief might see us and realise I know," Ren said. "Go on, scoot."

Karl looked like he was about to say something else, but he evidently thought better of it, turning to head in the opposite direction.

Ren headed towards the west side of the carnival.

Half an hour later, Ren still had all six of his Poke Balls. He wondered if he was being too obvious. He had, after all, been doing his level best to look vague and dreamy, wandering slowly through the temporary alleys of the carnival with his eyes on the sky, paying as little attention to people around him as he could. It was a surprisingly difficult act to keep up, for every instinct he had was telling him he was a target. _Does that mean it's working?_

Subtly, he glanced down at his belt. Six Poke Balls. He stopped for a moment to chat to a friendly stall owner he'd met earlier, complimenting the man on the Kecleon that he was using as an attraction. The Pokémon changed colour repeatedly as its owner held up different-coloured slides behind it, its skin seeming to fizzle slightly as the pigments morphed. Ren stayed at the stall for a good five minutes, genuinely interested in the unusual Pokémon. More than that, though, he wanted to give any potential thief another opportunity to try and sneak up on him. He had remembered that the thief had taken Karl's Pokémon while the target was sitting down, distracted by something else. He kept one eye on his belt, but all six of his Poke Balls remained where they were.

Deciding that staying at the stall any longer would be suspicious, Ren turned to leave. Preoccupied with his dilemma, however, he crashed into a blonde girl who had been walking up behind him.

"Ow! Watch it!" she said sharply.

"Sorry!" he said hastily, ducking quickly around her and moving on. _Well, that was embarrassing. I guess there's a limit on vagueness._

He sneaked another quick glance at his belt and almost shouted out loud. Four of his Poke Balls were missing, leaving him with just the two that were attached to his right hip. _That girl!_ He cursed his idiocy. She had to have stolen them when he'd bumped into her just seconds ago. He'd fallen for the oldest trick in the pickpocket's book.

Ren spun around and dashed back towards the stall with the Kecleon, all pretense of ignorance abandoned. The girl was gone. "Did any of you see that girl that was just here?" he asked the people clustered around the colour-shifting Normal-type. "Blonde, quite tall . . ."

Most of them shook their heads or just looked puzzled, but one man pointed east, back towards the centre of the carnival. Ren thanked him quickly before sprinting back towards the centre stage, scanning the crowd for the girl. The carnival whirled colourfully around him, and he swore silently as he realised that it would be almost impossible to find one person in the chaos. He covered the rest of the distance to the stage quickly.

Winona spotted him from her position on the stage and she hurried over, looking concerned. When she saw the empty slots on his belt, she paled slightly. "They took the bait?"

"Yes, but I couldn't catch her. I did see her face, though."

"You're sure? You know who it was?"

"She bumped into me, and a few seconds later I noticed they were gone. A hundred to one it was her who took them."

Winona nodded, still looking slightly flustered. "All right. What did she look like?"

"She was blonde, about this tall," he said, holding one hand a few inches above his own head. "Maybe eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing a red top and a black skirt, and I think she might have had a backpack."

"All right, I'll pass that on to the police. They'll find her. You just wait here with me."

"What? I'm not just going to sit here!" Ren protested. "If nothing else, I promised Karl I'd get his Pokémon back!"

"I understand you want to help, Ren, but the police are professionally equipped and trained to deal with this sort of thing. You'll just-"

"What? Get in the way? I doubt it. I'm the only one who's seen her face, remember. Even if they have a description, I'm still going to recognise her better than anyone."

Winona sighed. "All right, Ren. Do what you like. Just be careful, okay? I'm going to call the police in now. They've got people all around the carnival in case of emergency."

"Thanks," Ren said, dashing off before she could say anything else. He didn't know what he was doing or where he was going, but he wasn't going to sit around while other people chased the person who'd stolen his Poke Balls.

He looped around the carnival in a wide arc, wondering whether the girl had even stuck around. Two Pokémon of Karl's and four that belonged to the Champion would be a good haul, he suspected – even discounting anything else she might have stolen. If the girl had any sense, she'd leave.

Then again, the Feather Carnival was a massive event and very few people left before it was over. There was to be a synchronised flying performance and a fireworks display after dusk, he had heard. Hardly anybody would be wandering around the rest of Fortree. Most of the population of the city – remarkably small despite its geographical spread – would be concentrated in the square. He reflected briefly on how ironic the name of the carnival's location was, given that it wasn't even vaguely square-shaped, never mind being the size of half a dozen football pitches.

_No time to get distracted_, he told himself as he moved quickly through the south section of the carnival. _If I were the thief, what would I do?_ He would take his chances lying low among the festival-goers, he decided. Leaving the carnival would make him stand out too much, and the police would be watching for people leaving early. No, he would keep his head down among the crowds and slip out when they did, and under cover of darkness no less.

So the girl was most likely still around, he reasoned. He just had to find her.

Half an hour later, he was beginning to tire of wandering aimlessly through the crowds in the hope of finding one person. He had made his way over to the west quarter again, but the mysterious thief was still nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, he noticed a disturbance nearby. Several people were shouting, and the crowd was milling around in a slightly more confused manner than elsewhere. Ren sprinted towards the source of the the ruckus. He pushed his way through the crowd until he reached a roughly oval-shaped space that had been vacated by the mass of people that otherwise occupied every square inch of the square.

Three people stood in the open space: two policemen and the girl who had stolen Ren's Poke Balls. The girl stood in the middle, glancing back and forth at the policemen who were advancing slowly on her from either side. The crowd was thick; there would be no escape.

Ren sighed as the two policemen each sent out a Growlithe. He had kind of wanted to catch the girl himself, but it was good that she had been caught nonetheless. She _was_ wearing a backpack, he noticed, which would be where she was carrying the stolen Pokémon.

As the two Growlithe prowled towards the girl, however, something inky black flashed across Ren's vision, moving at an incredible speed. The Growlithe nearest to him howled as sharp claws raked across its muzzle, drawing blood which dripped to the ground below it.

The Pokémon that had made the attack came to a halt and faced off against the other Growlithe. It was a Sneasel, Ren saw – a Pokémon native to the Johto and Sinnoh regions, with a stubby, vaguely humanoid body and large, wicked-looking claws.

The girl smiled as both policemen backed up a little. It was a cold smile that sent a shiver down Ren's spine. The girl was eerily beautiful, he noticed absently. Her face was narrow and soft-looking, and her blonde hair was straight and long. Her eyes, though, were as hard as steel.

Sneasel swiped at the nearest members of the crowd, who stumbled backward in their haste to get out of range of the Pokémon's wicked claws. The Dark-type stepped forward and swung again, causing people to move back even further.

The girl's smile grew even wider as she followed her Pokémon, though Ren noticed she kept a weather eye on the policemen, who were warily moving after her.

For a brief moment, the crowd shifted even further out of the reach of Sneasel. A gap opened, and the girl and her Pokémon bolted.

Cursing, Ren tore after her, dashing past the policemen and through the opening that the girl had just used. He could see her some way ahead of him, jinking back and forward as she ran through the crowd. He followed quickly.

She was making a run for it, he realised as he followed her. Her cover blown, she was heading straight for the edge of the square, where she could disappear between the trees of Fortree City. He was gaining on her slightly, but he didn't think it would be enough to catch her before she left the carnival.

Sure enough, the girl reached the edge of the square while he was still twenty metres or so behind her. She slipped past a pair of police officers and out along the road that led west. Ren followed hot on her heels, though he wasn't confident he could catch her. Behind him, he dimly registered the police officers starting to follow, but he and the girl were already well past.

Shortly after leaving the carnival grounds, the girl left the main road, veering off towards the south. She must have recalled Sneasel at some point, he noticed. Ren followed her, realising that he was gaining ground again. He was no athlete, but five years of travelling around the Hoenn region and overseas – largely on foot – had left him more than moderately fit.

He could hear running water, he realised suddenly. They were approaching the Fortree River, then. What was she planning?

The river came suddenly into view as he topped a gentle swell in the forest floor, the thief still some metres ahead of him. She headed directly for the sturdily-built log bridge that crossed the river, shrugging her bag off as she ran. Ren followed with growing worry as she rummaged within it. Whatever she was doing in the bag slowed her down, so Ren almost caught up with her. He was within ten metres of her when she hit the bridge.

The girl swung her arm high as he ran onto the bridge, two Poke Balls flying back at an angle that would send them towards the riverbank – or maybe even into the river. _A distraction. Clever._ "Braviary!" he shouted, not letting up his pursuit of the girl.

With a mighty screech, Ren's proud Flying-type burst down through the canopy, where he had been flying silently, waiting to be called upon. He swooped down in a swift arc, snatching the two Poke Balls out of the air and pulling up again to follow Ren and the girl onto the bridge.

The girl stopped, whirling around to face Ren with an ugly snarl on her pretty face. Before he could get any closer, however, she thrust an arm out over the river, another Poke Ball in her hand. Ren stopped short, eyeing the Poke Ball warily.

"Braviary," he said quietly after a few seconds of silence. "The Poke Balls, please."

Swooping overhead, Braviary dropped the spheres before perching on the handrail on the other side of the bridge. Ren caught the Poke Balls and pressed the release switches on them. Scar the Mightyena and Sableye appeared before him, looking confused. "Good to know you two are all right," he said, clipping their Poke Balls to two of the empty slots on his belt.

"You're going to let me go," the girl said suddenly. Her voice was quiet, but sharp as a knife. "If you, or any of these Pokémon, move an inch, one of your Pokémon goes over the side. Your Braviary's quick, but not quick enough to catch it this time. The current runs quickly here, and you'll probably never see the Pokémon inside again. They'll get waterlogged and sink somewhere between here and the ocean, but where, I have no idea. I've got the other three right here, and they'll go the way of the first quickly enough."

Ren bit his lip thoughtfully. "But if I let you go, I'll probably never see my Pokémon again either," he said, forcing his voice to remain level.

"True," the girl admitted. "But at least you'll know they're alive."

Ren glanced over the side of the bridge. The current _was_ swift, the bridge naturally having been built over the narrowest part of the river. There were rapids a way downstream, too; he could hear them, but they were out of sight. She was right, he realised. Something as small as a Poke Ball would be lost forever if it went over the side.

"What's your answer, _Champion_?" she asked mockingly, placing a derisive emphasis on the last word. "Will you watch your Pokémon die, or watch them leave you forever?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: See? Drama. I told you. Well, I'd be worried if I was Ren right now.

And dayum, this is the second-longest chapter to date, eclipsed only by the mammoth Chapter 22! As such, this tips us over the 100k mark. Hooray! Only 510 out of 44,591 Pokemon fics have over a hundred thousand words. I am the 1.14%.


	25. Wings Have We

**A/N**: Fun fact of the day: this chapter title was unknowingly inspired by Giratina's awesome fic, _Wings Have We_. I worked this out only after posting it. So a plug for Giratina there in exchange for nicking her title. Ehehe . . .

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Five<strong>

_Wings Have We_

Ren smiled, spreading his arms generously. "Go ahead," he said. "Toss them over. See if I care."

A flicker of confusion crossed the girl's face. Her eyes were startlingly blue, he noticed. They were quite pretty, really. "Oh, I see. You're calling my bluff. I really will do it!" she said, waving the hand with Ren's Poke Ball in it to emphasise her point.

"Okay," Ren said, shrugging his backpack off his shoulders.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "I told you I'd drop it if you moved!"

"Then drop it. Drop them all," Ren said, fiddling with the zip.

Frowning, the girl opened her hand, letting the Poke Ball in it drop. It fell towards the river, turning slowly in midair until it hit the water with a splash, disappearing momentarily before it bobbed up again a few feet downstream.

Ren watched it go idly, then shrugged and went back to digging through his bag.

"Aren't . . . aren't you bothered?" the girl asked, faltering.

"Why should I be?" Ren asked, finding what he was looking for. "I mean, that was a perfectly nice Poke Ball. Cost me a couple of bucks. But I wasn't that attached to it."

She just glared at him. Her blinking had sped up slightly, he noticed. She was confused. Uncertain.

"You know," he said casually, thumbing the release switch on the Poke Ball he had just pulled out of his bag, "you should really check what you_ have_ before you try bargaining with it." Camerupt appeared on the bridge behind the girl, snorting threateningly. Ren pressed three more switches, sending out Zangoose, Solrock and Manectric. Braviary squawked happily as Yanmega buzzed out from behind a tree on the bank and landed on Camerupt's back.

The girl's face fell as she looked at the Pokémon surrounding her, then at the three Poke Balls in her hands, and then back again. She pressed the release switches with fumbling fingers, but the Poke Balls sprung open to reveal only air. "Wh-when?" she spluttered, dropping them. "H-how did you switch them?"

"I switched them after Karl and I talked to Winona," he said, grinning slightly despite the seriousness of the situation. "You never had my Pokémon. You just stole four empty Poke Balls off my belt. Are you proud of yourself?"

The girl gave him a poisonous glare, but Ren laughed it off. "You could learn a thing or two about dirty looks from a friend of mine," he said, remembering Elly's cold green eyes with a slight shiver.

"You . . . you piss me off, Ren Goodwin," the girl said, shaking her head as she brushed a loose strand of hair out of her perfect face.

"I seem to be doing that to girls a lot recently," he reflected bitterly."And that reminds me. You evidently know who I am, but who are you?"

The girl laughed. It sounded genuine, although she was still glaring. "Like I'd tell you my name, Champion."

"Well, unless you want me to call you Annoying Thief Girl, I'd suggest you tell me."

"What does it matter? You're never going to see me again," she said.

Ren could hear shouts from the road behind him. "Manectric, go and fetch the police, would you?" Manectric yipped and dashed away. "I imagine they'll want a word with you," he said.

"Too bad they're not getting one," she said.

"Really?" Ren said, raising an eyebrow. "Not to sound cocky or anything, but we kind of have you surrounded."

"You're a funny one, Champion," she said with a smile. "I'll catch you some other time." With that, she vaulted over the side of the bridge.

Ren's eyes widened as he leaned over the edge to see where she'd gone. The swift-flowing river carried her quickly downstream, but she was a strong swimmer and before long she had reached the far bank. She clambered out of the river and climbed, sure-footed, up the bank.

"Braviary!" Ren said sharply as he set off running. He knew there wasn't much chance of catching up to her, but Braviary might be able to.

Braviary took off from the railing with a screech, winging his way towards where the girl was fast disappearing into the trees once again.

Ren reached the end of the bridge and turned left, heading along the road towards the girl, who he could just barely see on the road some way in front of him. He saw Braviary swoop down in front of her, but there was a flash of red light and her Sneasel appeared again, leaping off her shoulder and onto Braviary's back. The Flying-type screeched and tried to throw it off, but it hung on grimly. The girl ran past, and Braviary wheeled off, screeching in pain and frustration as its passenger did its level best to slice at his head while hanging on.

"Damn it all," Ren muttered, speeding up a little more. He had all but run out of energy during the first chase, and now he was flagging. He doubted he could catch up to the girl a second time.

As it turned out, he was to be denied the opportunity. A loud noise behind him made him look back – just in time to throw himself out of the way as a bright red sports car came haring down the road towards him. It blasted by in a cloud of dust, screeching to a halt just ahead of the girl. She dived through a door that popped open in front of her, recalling her Sneasel from Braviary's back as she did so. Tires spinning, the car shot off again, leaving Ren coughing from the dust behind it.

"Damn, damn, damn," he said, standing up and walking over to where Braviary had perched on a low tree branch after the Sneasel had been returned to its Poke Ball. He at least seemed unhurt. "Sorry, buddy," Ren said, stroking Braviary's proud plumage apologetically. "You did well."

Braviary chirruped softly, bumping its large, plumed head against Ren's hand as Zangoose and Yanmega caught up to them, Solrock and Camerupt bringing up the rear with Karl's Pokémon. "You all did well," he said as they gathered around him. "Scar, Sableye. Are you two all right?"

Karl's Dark-types appeared unhurt, so Ren took the opportunity to return them to their Poke Balls. As he returned his own Pokémon as well, a police car pulled up next to him, lights flashing. The door opened and one of the officers that had cornered the girl at the carnival stepped out.

"Mr Goodwin," the policeman said. "I'm glad you're all right. What happened to the thief?"

"She got away," Ren said. "I'm sorry. A car came along and picked her up."

"What kind of car?" the policeman asked, pulling out a notebook.

"Bright red," Ren said. "Some kind of sports car. No spoiler on the back. I couldn't see the logo or license plate, sorry."

"Well, there can't be that many bright red sports cars in Fortree," the policeman said, jotting down a few notes. "We'll keep an eye out, but I imagine they'll be out of town before too long. Could be anywhere from Lilycove to Mauville by tonight. What did she get away with?"

"Nothing, as far as I know," Ren said, grinning slightly. "I got back the Pokémon she stole off my friend, so unless she took someone else's too, she got nothing."

"We haven't had any other reports of theft," the policeman told him, flipping over a couple of pages on his notepad. "What about your Pokémon, though?"

"I had them the whole time," Ren said, quickly outlining how he'd tricked her into stealing his empty Poke Balls.

The policeman chuckled. "Good work, kid," he said. "You'd make a good cop someday. Anyway, we're going to do a quick loop around the city now. See if we can't spot this red sports car of yours. You should go on back to the carnival and give your friend his Pokémon back."

"All right, officer," Ren said with a nod as the policeman got back into the car, which promptly sped off east. He headed back towards the bridge, meeting Manectric and the officers it had fetched on the way. Ren briefly summarised the situation for them as he returned Manectric to its Poke Ball with a slight sigh of relief. Even though he had known where his Pokémon were the whole time, he only really felt safe with all six of them on his belt.

Returning to the carnival, Ren pulled out his Pokenav and called Karl, who answered immediately.

"Ren? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, I got Scar and Sableye back."

Karl's sigh of relief came down the phone as a rush of static. "Thank Arceus," he said. "Do I get to punch the person who nicked them now?"

"No, she got away," Ren said. "Sorry about that. The police are looking for her, though."

Karl swore loudly and colourfully. "I'm going to kill that bi- ow! Okay, okay! Sorry! I'm sorry!"

Ren frowned. "Karl?"

A different voice answered. "Hi, Ren, this is Winona. Well done on recovering the stolen Pokémon."

"Do I want to know what you did to Karl?" Ren asked.

"That was Skarmory, actually," she said innocently. "In lieu of washing his mouth out with soap, I've had Skarmory nipping at his ear every time he swears like that. He's not nearly as bad now as he was five years ago. Anyway, come on back to the stage. Karl will want his Pokémon back, and I've got someone here who wants to meet you."

"What? Who is it now?" Ren asked, but the line had already gone silent. Sighing, he began the walk back towards the carnival.

Ren allowed a slight flush of pride to run through him as he passed through the crowd. Although the girl had got away from him, he was quite pleased with how he'd managed to trick her. Of course, he would have had to be entirely foolish to actually let her steal his Pokémon in the first place, but . . . _that look on her face was priceless_, he reflected. _Pity she got away_.

As he approached the stage, Karl came charging out towards him, shouldering people aside in his rush. Chuckling slightly, Ren held out Karl's two Poke Balls.

The black-haired boy snatched them off him and pressed the release switches. When Scar and Sableye materialised in front of him, he breathed a heavy sigh of relief, sinking down to sit on the ground as if the air rushing out had deflated him. Scar nosed him reassuringly, and Sableye scampered up onto his knee and patted him on the head.

Ren smiled, only able to guess how Karl had been feeling. He couldn't imagine losing any of his Pokémon for even a minute; even though he'd switched their Poke Balls for empty ones, he had felt his heart drop through his stomach when he'd noticed their absence.

"Thank you, Ren," Karl said tightly, standing up again and clasping his hand, all pretenses of standoffishness gone.

Ren could tell that Karl was trying not to cry, so he simply clapped him on the shoulder and moved on towards the stage, leaving the other boy together with his Pokémon.

Winona was waiting for him beside the stage with a young, redheaded woman who looked vaguely familiar. "I'm impressed, Ren," Winona said. "That was well done. Still . . . it's good that you managed to get Karl's Pokémon back, but that could have been dangerous. Be more careful next time, okay?"

Ren nodded. "All right. Uh . . . is this the person you wanted to meet?"

"That's me!" said the redhead brightly, stepping forward and putting her face right up next to Ren's, looking him in the eyes. He tried to pull back, but she grabbed him by the shoulders and held him still.

"Uh . . ." he said awkwardly.

"Yes!" she said, letting him go and skipping backwards again. "Elesa told me about you. We were watching the Ever Grande Conference on TV last month, and she said 'Hey, I know that kid! He won the Bolt Badge off me a while back!'."

"Uh . . ." Ren said again, trying to make sense of the bubbly young woman in front of him. _Elesa . . . the Bolt Badge . . . the Feather Carnival. _"Skyla?" he said, frowning slightly.

She grinned widely, throwing him an aviator's salute with two fingers. "That's me! Mistralton City's Gym Leader, at your service! I came for the Feather Carnival, but the weather in Unova was terrible when I left yesterday, so I'm late. I hear you've all been having fun without me!"

"I wouldn't call it 'fun', Skyla," Winona said with a note of disapproval in her voice. "One of my apprentices had his Pokémon stolen."

"But Ren got them back, didn't he?" Skyla said. "All's well that ends well. Speaking of that, was that your Braviary I saw flying around earlier?"

"Ah, yes, it would be," Ren said. "I don't think anybody else here has one."

"He's a fine specimen," Skyla said. "Young, too. He's going to get even bigger. Did you catch him when you were in Unova? About the same time you beat Elesa? Well done on that, by the way. She doesn't go down easy."

"Er," Ren said. "Yes, I caught him as a Rufflet when I was in Unova . . . not quite three years ago. I was twelve."

"What possessed you to go running off overseas anyway? Unova Badges wouldn't do you any good for the Hoenn League."

"I . . . I hit a snag. With Brawly and the Knuckle Badge. I needed to . . . get away from it all for a while, so I went to Unova, watched the Conference, challenged a few Gyms and then came back here."

"How many Unova Badges did you get in the end?" Skyla asked, looking thoughtful.

"Three: the Basic Badge from Lenora, the Trio Badge from Chili, and the Bolt Badge from Elesa."

"How would you like the opportunity to earn another one?" Skyla asked with a glint in her eye.

"You mean . . ." Ren blinked, not entirely following.

"The Jet Badge, sport. You want it?"

"Don't I have to, you know . . . challenge you at the Mistralton Gym?" he asked.

"Eh, not really. I think you've earned the right to battle me for it. Winona's freed the main stage up for us. You in or not?"

Ren blinked. Today was certainly shaping up to be an extraordinarily eventful day.

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself standing at one side of the main stage. Skyla stood at the other end, a lively breeze tugging at her red hair. Winona stood between the two of them, ready to act as adjudicator.

A sizable crowd had gathered, despite the unscheduled nature of the event. The Hoenn Champion battling a Gym Leader from the distant Unova region was sure to draw attention.

Ren himself wasn't sure how the battle would turn out. He was expected to win, of course. In a match between a Champion and a Gym Leader, the Champion should come out on top every time. This was different to his battle with Roxanne two days ago, though. There had been nobody watching that one, nobody to bear witness if he lost. Here, there were hundreds of people watching already, with more trickling in every second. If Ren was defeated . . . he shuddered to think of the consequences.

"This battle will be a three on three," Winona declared. "The challenger, Ren, will be allowed to switch Pokémon at will, but Skyla must keep each Pokémon in until it is declared unable to battle. The battle is over when all three of one Trainer's Pokémon are judged to be unable to battle. Any questions, Trainers?"

Ren shook his head, feeling slightly nervous. Skyla evidently had no problems either, for she snatched a Poke Ball from her belt and held it at the ready. She looked to be genuinely enjoying herself.

Ren glanced down at his belt. Manectric was the obvious choice for this battle, but would it be best to save it for last or to send it out first in hope of a quick win? _If I recall rightly, Skyla's strongest Pokémon is Swanna, some kind of Water/Flying type mix. She probably won't send that out first, though, so I might be safe with Camerupt. But the battlefield is wooden, and there are no rocks around to use for a Rock Slide attack, so there goes that option. I'd better play it a little safer. I'll hold Manectric in reserve for now. _Taking a deep breath, he plucked Solrock's Poke Ball from his belt and held it out in front of him. "I'm ready," he said.

"In that case," Winona said, "let the battle for the Jet Badge begin!"

The familiar _crack_ of an opening Poke Ball was almost drowned out by the enthused roar of the crowd. Ren and Solrock found themselves facing off against a Pokémon Ren had never seen in person before. A large blue creature flapped in place in front of Skyla. It had a pink, heart-shaped nose and a white ruff around its neck. Personally, Ren thought it looked like the mutant offspring of an Eevee and a Golbat, but he didn't say anything. He had seen Swoobat in books and magazines before. They were endemic to the Unova region, so he hadn't had any experience battling them before. He did remember that they possessed dangerous Psychic-type abilities.

"Fire Spin!" he ordered quickly. The emphasis of this battle would be on speed, most likely. Solrock thrummed happily, conjuring a blazing pillar of fire around its opponent. Ren blinked slightly as the heat wave hit him, but forced himself to watch the centre of the blazing maelstrom carefully as the crowd murmured appreciatively. He wasn't here to put on a show, but there was no harm in being a little flashy.

The pillar of fire bulged in the middle and exploded, tongues of fire vanishing almost instantly as visible waves of psychic energy radiated from Swoobat. Skyla gave an order, pointing directly at Solrock, and Swoobat's pulses of energy became more focused, blasting towards Solrock.

"Counter it!" Ren said, his voice urgent. Solrock hummed and glowed purple, sending its own waves of power back toward Swoobat. The two forces crashed into each other with a _boom_ that sent ripples of wind across the stage, spawning from the contact point and blasting away at anything nearby. Ren saw the wind snap a string of coloured bunting at the edge of the stage, sending one end flying loosely into the crowd.

The two Pokémon continued their efforts, rippling waves of mental energy pushing back and forth in the centre of the stage. Neither of them seemed to be able to get any leverage over the other, Solrock's purple energy and Swoobat's pink crashing into each other with the force of a thousand hammer blows.

"Dammit," Ren muttered. Getting caught in a deadlock was never good. He had to do something to break it, but what? Solrock's Rock Slide attack was out, thanks to the terrain. Fire Spin would just be destroyed by the Psychic waves, and SolarBeam would take far too long to charge up. But he couldn't switch Solrock out, either; that could cause Swoobat's Psychic attack to hit him instead. The only thing left to try was . . . "Spin! Keep up the Psychic attack for just a little longer!" he ordered. It was risky, especially considering that this was a technique they had only developed recently, but it was the only thing he could do.

Solrock began to rotate in midair, spinning like a wheel and drawing threads of Psychic power with it. As its speed increased, more and more of its Psychic energy became caught up in its motion, forming a concentrated disc of energy that enveloped it entirely. Swoobat's attacks bounced ineffectually off the wall of purple light, but they were still at a deadlock.

"Turn and go straight through!" Ren said. Solrock's wheel turned slowly until its edge pointed directly at Swoobat, scything easily through the oncoming attack and sending its remnants flying off to either side. "Go!" Ren shouted, and Solrock rolled forward like a circular saw, cutting through the air towards Swoobat with almost effortless ease.

Swoobat saw it coming and jinked out of the way, but Solrock's wheel turned far more quickly than Ren would have thought possible, slamming into the Flying-type with enormous force and sending it flying. It had the fortunate side-effect of breaking Swoobat's concentration, which meant that the Psychic waves stopped.

"Follow it up!" Ren commanded. "Grab it!" Solrock righted itself, causing its Psychic disc to dissipate. It wasted no time, however, in pressing its advantage, seizing the confused Swoobat with its Psychic attack and lifting it high into the air. Seeming to read Ren's mind before he could even speak, Solrock smashed its opponent down against the wooden stage with a sickening _thud_ before lifting it again and bringing it back down a second time, then a third. When the purple nimbus around Swoobat vanished, it was clearly unconscious, lying motionless on the floor.

Winona rushed over to check Skyla's Pokémon. When she straightened up, she lifted one hand towards Ren's end of the stage. "Swoobat is unable to battle! Ren's Solrock is the winner!"

After returning Swoobat to its Poke Ball, Skyla paused a moment. "You're better than I thought, Champion," she called. "Elesa said you were good, but I didn't realise you were _this_ good."

Ren wasn't sure quite what he should say to that, so he simply nodded, accepting the compliment. He didn't want to give away how close the previous round had been. Despite how short it had been, the battle had been extraordinarily tight. If Solrock hadn't been able to pull off its spinning manoeuvre correctly, Skyla and Woobat would have seized the opening just as he had.

The crowd was cheering, he realised dimly. They were floating somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, being largely unimportant to the battle, but he could hear them – as if from the other end of a very long tunnel. He blinked hard, forcing himself back to earth. He looked around, taking in the sight of the hundreds of people clustered around the stage. There was something special about it, he realised. This was all new. Until the Ever Grande Conference, he had become accustomed to battling without an audience.

"Wake up, Ren!" Skyla called good-naturedly from the other end of the stage.

Ren blinked._ Right. Concentrate. Don't get distracted._ "I'm awake!" he replied. "Are you going to choose your second Pokémon."

"Of course! It has to be Swanna at a time like this!" she said with a confident grin, sending out her star player.

_Okay, massive type disadvantage there with Water. Do I switch? No, best to see how much damage I can do before Solrock goes down. _"Psychic!" he shouted. "And start charging while you're at it." He was hoping to get at least one SolarBeam off, as Swanna's Water typing would make it at least partially vulnerable.

"Hydro Pump!" Skyla ordered. Swanna flexed its graceful white neck and opened its beak. Before Solrock could react, a high-pressure jet of water blasted towards it, slamming it backwards in the air several feet.

"Solrock!" Ren cried. It wasn't as if he hadn't been expecting a powerful Water-type move, but Swanna's speed had taken him aback.

When the jet of water stopped, Solrock was hovering awkwardly in the air. Even as Ren watched, it sank slowly to the ground, unable to remain airborne. It came to rest on the wooden stage with a _clunk_ before toppling over completely, rolling slightly from side to side on its rounded back.

_A single attack?_ Ren thought uncomprehendingly as Winona declared Solrock out for the count. _Just how monstrously strong is this thing? Even with the type disadvantage, Solrock should have been able to take that hit._

_All right. Skyla's played her trump card; it's time to bring out mine._


	26. Every Clap of Thunder

**A/N**: Warning! Chapters 25 and 26 were uploaded together, so if you hit the arrow button to get here, you probably missed 25, so hit ye back button! I'm just sick of being behind, and this chapter carries on from the last one fairly seamlessly, so you get two today. Next chapter will probably go up Tuesday, followed by Thursday or Friday, and then we'll finally be caught up and chapters will go up at the same time everywhere (a lot more slowly than this breakneck pace, thank Arceus.)

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

_Every Clap of Thunder_

Ren sent Manectric out; it was a bit of a gamble, but it was his best choice for dealing with Swanna. The double type advantage ought to make for a swift battle, though he knew he had to be careful.

Manectric howled eagerly to the sky, fur bristling with static electricity. The weather would work against them, Ren noted. Manectric was in its element when it was raining, as the charged clouds acted as a secondary source of power to feed its electric attacks. There wasn't a cloud in the sky over Fortree, however, so he would have to make do with what he had.

"Start off with a Thunderbolt," Ren said, making himself remain calm. He had the advantage, but losing his cool would nullify that.

Howling aggressively, Manectric charged up its electricity, a crackling aura of yellow energy building up around its body. With a final growl, it launched a sizzling stream of lightning towards its opponent.

Swanna took to the sky, leaping out of the way as Manectric's Thunderbolt attack zapped past.

"Again!" Ren said, causing Manectric to loose another bolt of lightning towards Swanna. Swanna was too fast for it, however, banking out of the way. _We're never going to win from this distance_, he thought. _But Skyla has an advantage with Swanna's mobility. And why isn't she attacking? She must be sounding Manectric out, trying to work out how to deal with it. That means she's worried about it, which means I have a chance if I can figure this out quickly. Now what other moves might Swanna have?_

Swanna dived straight towards Manectric, its graceful neck straight as an arrow. Skyla must have given some signal that he'd missed; he'd have to watch out for that in the future. _Is that an Aerial Ace attack?_

"Get out of the way, Manectric!" he ordered. It was too late. Swanna seemed to blur, its outline becoming indistinct, and a split second later, it disappeared from view entirely, crashing into Manectric as if it had been teleported and sending the Electric-type flying. Ren knew, however, that it had simply moved so quickly that it had disappeared from view. He remembered Winona using the same move in his battle against her to devastating effect._ How did I beat her then?_

_The obvious way. _"Manectric," he said thoughtfully. "Do you remember when you were training with Zangoose in the quarry the other day? I want you to apply that here next time she tries that, okay?" Manectric barked assent, keeping its eyes fixed on Swanna. "Good. For now, let's go with Thunderbolt again. See if you can't get a little closer this time."

Crackling with electric power, Manectric bounded forwards, towards where Swanna was holding its position in midair. With a howl, it threw itself upwards, taking the Flying-type by surprise as it launched its attack. Despite its apparent confusion, however, Swanna was still able to avoid Manectric's attack, rolling out of the way in midair and swooping away. "Push that advantage, Manectric!" _Draw out that Aerial Ace again!_

Manectric leapt and ran, throwing lightning bolts around the stage with gay abandon. Some came close to hitting Swanna, but Skyla's Pokémon managed to jink out of the way at the last second every time. _Soon, that Aerial Ace will come again. Then we should be able to do it._

Suddenly, Swanna swerved in midair, aiming straight for Manectric. _Here it comes! _As Swanna dived, Manectric leapt forward, jaws bared and crackling with electricity. Even as Swanna shimmered and disappeared momentarily, Manectric brought its teeth crashing together.

The timing was perfect. Manectric bit down on Swanna's wing just as its attack made contact, sparks of electric current leaping and flowing all through the bodies of both Pokémon. Swanna cried out in pain as Manectric's teeth let go. "Thunderbolt!" Ren yelled. Manectric obliged happily, sending thousands of volts of energy pouring into Swanna with a victorious howl. Unable to move out of the way quickly enough, Swanna took the full force of the attack.

When Manectric stopped its assault to recharge, Swanna was weaving awkwardly in the air, seeming rather frazzled. Ren was surprised that it hadn't been entirely taken out by the attack, but he knew that Manectric couldn't lose now. "One more Thunderbolt!" he ordered. Throwing its head back, Manectric howled joyfully and blasted another bolt of lightning at Swanna.

"Dodge it!" Skyla cried, and to Ren's utter astonishment, Swanna dived out of the way of the lightning bolt, ducking and weaving away from the attacks that Manectric fired in follow-up.

Ren gritted his teeth in frustration. Somehow, they were back to square one, and he hardly thought Skyla was going to risk using Aerial Ace again now that she knew what Manectric was capable of.

"Swanna, use Gust! Make it fly!"

Ren felt the wind whip up around him, growing quickly more powerful until he had to put his arm in front of his eyes to protect them from the dust and splinters being tossed around the stage. He squinted awkwardly over his arm to see Manectric being lifted into the sky amidst a maelstrom of dusty wind. Manectric yelped helplessly as its paws paddled wildly in the air, firing off Thunderbolts that went wild.

Even as Ren watched, trying to work out what to do, Swanna flapped its wings harder still, increasing the speed and power of the winds that surrounded its opponent. Manectric flew higher and higher, tumbling end over end until Swanna suddenly stopped, folding its wings calmly back. The winds dissipated and Manectric fell like a stone from at least thirty metres up.

Ren watched with apprehension as Manectric fell towards the stage, breathing a sigh of relief when it landed back on its feet with barely a _thump_. He had one option left. Skyla wouldn't be foolish enough to try and get in close again, and Gust seemed to have no particular effect apart from temporary incapacitation. That meant that the powerful Hydro Pump was likely her only remaining option. If Swanna knew a move that would do better, surely she would have used it already.

Sure enough, Skyla – practically bouncing with excitement, Ren noted with some confusion – called, "Swanna! Finish it up with a Hydro Pump!"

As Swanna lifted its head in preparation to launch its attack, Ren struck. "Manectric, Thunderbolt!" As soon as the jet of high-powered water left Swanna's beak, Manectric loosed a bolt of lightning that struck Swanna's attack head on. Rather than diverting it, however, the electricity raced along the stream of water, heading directly for Swanna. Ren had counted on the conducive properties of water to ensure the attack hit its target, and he had not been wrong. Swanna shrieked as the electricity tore through its body, its Hydro Pump faltering. It kept up the attack, however, blasting Manectric for as long as it remained conscious. Eventually, however, the continuous stream of electricity took its toll, and Swanna crumpled to the ground, a limp, motionless bundle of feathers.

At the other end of the stage, however, Manectric was stumbling. Swanna's last Hydro Pump had been a direct hit, and combined with the damage it had taken from the two Aerial Ace attacks, it appeared to be having trouble standing. Even as Ren watched, teeth clenched in worry, it fell to the ground, utterly drained.

"Both Pokémon are unable to battle!" Winona announced after about ten seconds of silence. "The round is a draw. Both Trainers have one Pokémon remaining."

Ren stepped over to Manectric and knelt down beside it, stroking its wet fur carefully. "Sorry, buddy," he whispered. "I should have taken better care of you." Manectric cracked one eye open and growled gently, one paw twitching slightly. "No, you rest now. You did fantastically." He plucked Manectric's Poke Ball from his belt and let it suck the Pokémon back inside in a shower of red light.

He stood, clipping it back to his belt as he looked down the field at Skyla. "That's quite a Swanna you have there," he said, genuinely impressed. "I haven't come across a Pokémon that strong outside of the Elite Four for a long time. You must have it very well trained."

"We've been together a long time," Skyla said, returning the unconscious Swanna to its Poke Ball. "She's my strongest partner. Still, I wasn't expecting that trick with the Hydro Pump. You do live up to your reputation."

Ren shook his head mutely. He didn't feel he deserved that reputation any more, somehow. He had let Manectric down with his oversight, and his Pokémon had paid the price for it. It wasn't a good feeling, especially when he considered how much his Pokémon trusted him. He had made the same mistake with Solrock, too.

The _pop_ of a Poke Ball being opened drew him from his introspection. He looked up to find a medium-sized black bird Pokémon occupying Skyla's end of the stage. He frowned. "That's . . . Unfezant, isn't it?" It took him a little longer to recognise it due to the lack of the trademark red plumes that he associated with the species. _A female?_

"That's right, Ren. Are all these Unova Pokémon bothering you?" Skyla asked teasingly.

"There might be some truth to that," Ren said quietly. Most of his experience came from battling Trainers in the Hoenn region, using Pokémon native to the area. Pokémon from as far afield as Unova were rare, and he hadn't had time to battle them all during his short time there. He had certainly never battled a Swoobat or a Swanna before. _I did battle against a Trainer with a Tranquill, though. The evolution should just be a slightly more powerful version. This should be manageable._ That only left the question of which Pokémon to use. Solrock and Manectric were out for the count. Yanmega would be pulverised, especially without the use of its Ancientpower attack. Camerupt was bulky, but its lack of mobility would leave it wide open for Unfezant to tear it to pieces. Zangoose might work, but it certainly wouldn't be able to fight the Flying-type on an equal footing. No, there was only one Pokémon for that. It was kind of fitting, too.

"Braviary!" he cried aloud, pulling the Poke Ball off his belt and throwing it upwards in the same movement, tapping the release switch on the way. Braviary appeared with a confident screech that echoed throughout the square. It circled over the battlefield, eyeing its opponent keenly.

"Ooh, it's wonderful!" Skyla exclaimed, shading her eyes with one hand as she watched Braviary's movements. "I'm so envious, Ren. It makes me happy to see you have such a wonderful Flying-type on your team. I think everyone should have at least one."

"They are nice, aren't they?" Ren said thoughtfully. "It must be nice to be able to fly so freely like that. I mean, I'm not a fan of flying myself, but just having that freedom, I think, would be nice . . ."

"It really is, Ren. But tell me one thing."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Are you going to try and win this Jet Badge off me or not?"

Ren grinned. "You bet your ass I am," he said. "I'm not going to lose here!"

"Then let's go!" Skyla said, sweeping her arm upwards. "Unfezant! Take to the skies!"

"I can't help but think this battle would have been better fought at the Gym," Ren commented to Winona as he craned his neck upwards to watch the two Pokémon circling each other warily.

"We _could_ move it up there, but the crowd . . ."

"Yeah, fair enough," Ren said. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted upwards. "Braviary! Get in there!" This battle would be fought with minimal input from the Trainers, he could tell. There wouldn't be much he could do, and the battle would likely move far too fast for him to react properly anyway.

With a piercing shriek, Braviary dived for Unfezant, powerful claws extended. Unfezant swung out of the way, moving upwards a little. It flapped its wings powerfully, sending sharp gusts of wind scything towards Braviary. Taking the hit directly, Braviary screeched and lost a little altitude before recovering. "The underside!" Ren yelled.

Braviary soared upwards, slamming its beak into Unfezant's underside. Skyla's Pokémon trilled in alarm and tried to escape, but Braviary drove upwards relentlessly, flapping its wings powerfully. When they reached their apex, Braviary seized Unfezant in its strong claws and swung it downwards, throwing it down towards the ground. With gravity pulling on it as well, it plummeted almost all the way down to the stage before it managed to right itself. By that time, Braviary was on top of it again, pecking at its head and buffeting its body with its wings.

"Unfezant, Razor Wind!" Skyla said quickly. Unfezant swung out from under Braviary's assault and whipped up a storm with its wings, creating a barely visible miniature tornado that slammed into Braviary, driving it backwards with a screech.

Ren winced as he saw the blood on Braviary's feathers. It didn't seem to be too seriously injured as it made its way upwards again. "Keep on top of it!" Ren yelled as Braviary jinked back and forth above Unfezant, impeding its progress upwards. "Superpower!"

Eyes blazing red, Braviary folded its wings back against its body and blasted its way downwards, slamming heavily into Unfezant and driving them both down to the ground. They crashed into the stage with an enormous impact, wood splinters flying everywhere as Braviary's momentum smashed the two Pokémon through the boards to the ground below.

"Unfezant!" Skyla cried, rushing forward to peer down into the jagged hole they had left.

Ren moved quickly over as well to look down, but the two Pokémon had gone. He heard them crashing around beneath the stage, thumping around between the struts that held the construction together. He waited with bated breath, hating the feeling of powerlessness, the sensation of not knowing. He was used to being in control, knowing what was going to happen – or at least what _should_ happen. As he listened to Braviary and Unfezant crashing around beneath his feet, he couldn't help but worry. Was this where he finally let his Pokémon down?

"It's tight," Skyla said, looking up at him from across the hole. "They're well matched, but I think Braviary's size and strength gives it a bit of an edge."

"I don't know," Ren said, confused by the sudden frank conversation in the heat of battle. "Unfezant has its Razor Wind and its other ranged attacks, so if it can just keep out of the way long enough . . ."

Braviary shrieked beneath his feet, and Unfezant came spiralling awkwardly out of the hole, blood matting the feathers on its right wing. It fluttered upwards, putting a good distance between itself and the stage. A few seconds later, Braviary shot upwards, seeming largely unharmed, though its wounds from Unfezant's Razor Wind were still visible.

Above, Unfezant flipped in midair and dived downwards again, wings extended. As it met Braviary, it jinked to one side a little, cracking its wing against Braviary's skull. Ren's Pokémon reeled, losing altitude, but it recovered quickly, spreading its wings wide and swooping upwards.

Both Pokémon paused in midair, eyeing each other up cautiously as their Trainers watched them from below with tense eyes. _Is this battle going to end?_ Ren wondered. Even though the battle had barely been going on for two minutes, Ren felt like he had been watching Braviary for hours. The two Flying-types dived at each other once again, twisting and grappling in midair. Braviary's powerful claws grasped at Unfezant's neck, but the smaller Pokémon slid swiftly out of the way, battering at Braviary's head with its wings.

Several times, Unfezant broke away from Braviary and sent razor-sharp winds slicing through the air towards it, inflicting numerous wounds on its bulkier opponent. Braviary kept up its relentless attack, however, getting in close to Unfezant where it could use its lethal beak and claws.

Suddenly, Braviary managed to get a claw around Unfezant's leg. Ren clenched his fist as he glimpsed victory. Braviary evidently felt the same way, for it let out a triumphant screech that caused several people in the audience to wince and cover their ears. Well used to Braviary's celebrations, Ren just smiled as it swung Unfezant around in the air, clearly in control. It spun several times, building up momentum, before flipping over in midair and throwing the helpless Unfezant down towards the stage.

Ren's mouth twisted involuntarily as he watched Unfezant slam into the ground for the final time, lying unmoving on the wooden boards. _That's got to hurt_. Despite the twinge of guilt, however, he felt a surge of pride and relief at the outcome. Looking up to the sky, he beckoned Braviary down towards him, smiling happily as the Flying-type flapped its way tiredly down towards him.

"Unfezant's out!" Winona announced suddenly. "That means that the winner of the battle is the challenger, Ren!"

The crowd went wild, which took Ren by surprise. After defeating Steven at the League, the crowd had sat in stunned silence for a full thirty seconds before applause broke out. They had evidently been expecting Steven to destroy him. The crowd at the Feather Carnival, however, held no such compunctions, applauding and shouting enthusiastically.

Ren smiled and waved at the crowd before catching Braviary's heavy, beaten form in his arms. "Oof," he grunted. "You're heavy, all right." Nevertheless, he did his best to lift his victorious battler high, showing him off to the crowd. It was Braviary they applauded for, he realised. Of course they appreciated the show he had put on as their Champion, but the people of Fortree had long held a special affinity for Flying-type Pokémon. Seeing one such as Braviary battling and emerging victorious would have been something very special indeed. Again, Ren felt that flush of pride as he gently stroked Braviary's feathers, still wet with blood. "Come on, you're all beaten up. We need to get you and the others to the Pokémon Centre."

"I'll go with you," Skyla said from behind him, clutching her three Poke Balls. "I've gotta say, I haven't had a battle like that for absolutely ages! That was intense!"

Ren smiled. "It most definitely was," he agreed, returning Braviary to its Poke Ball with another sigh of relief. "Too close for comfort."

"I'm so impressed by your Braviary, Ren," Skyla told him as they stepped off the stage. "They're magnificent Flying-types, and yours is a particularly fine specimen. I thought so when I first saw it, but that battle just proved it! You've trained it well. You'll have to tell me your secret some time."

"Thanks," Ren said. "I just . . . did what felt right." _Along with a healthy dose of _yehkti_,_ he added silently, feeling slightly sick. He didn't really want another reminder that his success couldn't be put entirely down to his own power. _How much of Braviary's strength comes from my training, and how much from my _yehkti_? I want to believe that I had a hand in it, but I really can't say for sure._

"Oh!" Skyla exclaimed, coming up short and digging the pocket of her jeans. "Before I forget . . . Ren. You earned this many times over during that battle." She held something high to the sky where everybody in the area could see it as sunlight glinted off gold and blue. The crowd – which had parted for them to pass through – applauded again as Skyla handed Ren his fourth Unova League Badge.

Ren looked at it sitting in the palm of his hand, shaped like a graceful wisp of a feather. It was light and joyful, much like Skyla. "I don't usually wear them," he said, "but I think I can make an exception for today." He pinned the badge to the front of his shirt, where it glinted proudly in the bright sunlight.

"It suits you, sport," Skyla said with a grin, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "You'd make a good Flying-type Trainer, you know. You have the vision for it."

Ren's brow creased slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"If you don't know, I'm not going to tell you. But come on. We need to get to the Pokémon Centre. You gave my poor Pokémon a good beating."

"Uh . . . sorry," Ren said guiltily.

"Oh, don't apologise. While they don't enjoy losing, they do love battling. Getting beaten up is a natural part of battling – nobody can win all the time. I guess I just proved that. When was the last time you lost a battle, by the way? I'm curious."

"Just . . . just before the Conference, actually," Ren said quietly as they left the crowd around the stage behind. "I ran into a guy I'd always had trouble with. Out of all the Trainers I battled repeatedly, he was the only one who beat me more times than I beat him. So two nights before the Conference was due to start, he turned up at my hotel room and demanded a battle. I didn't want to, but he was . . . insistent. So we battled. It was one of the best battles of my life, in a way, but at the same time . . . the worst. It was a major confidence-killer when he beat me, I tell you. I just about dropped out of the round robin stage of the Conference several times. Got over it soon enough, obviously, but . . . it stung."

"Did he enter the Conference?" Skyla asked curiously.

"Nah, he only had seven badges at that point. There was one he just couldn't get. He might have them all by now, though. I'll have to ask Winona."

"The Feather Badge was the one he couldn't get?" Skyla looked interested.

"Yeah. Funny how these things work, huh? Him and his Sceptile . . . they never had a chance against Winona."

"Winona's strong," Skyla said, glancing back towards the stage, where Winona appeared to be directing repairs on the hole Braviary had punched through the middle of it. "I really look up to her."

"She's . . . yeah," Ren said. "I mean, Brawly was the Gym Leader I had the most trouble with, thanks to Zangoose's type disadvantage, but Winona . . . Winona was probably the strongest of the Gym Leaders I faced here in Hoenn. Our battle ended in a draw, but she still gave me the Feather Badge anyway."

"You should put that on, too," Skyla suggested as the gate came into sight ahead of them. "Just for today, to prove you're a double Flying-type master!"

"That's . . . a good idea," Ren said, swinging his bag off his shoulder and rifling through it until he found his badge cases. He located the Feather Badge and pinned it next to the Jet Badge on his shirt.

"See, they make a nice pair," Skyla said, tapping them gently with her knuckle.

"Actually, if I think about it . . ." Ren said slyly, switching cases and pulling out another Badge, which he pinned next to the other two before putting his bag back on. He grinned sideways at Skyla, who looked dumbfounded.

"No way! You have the Zephyr Badge, too?"

"I took a trip to Johto a while back," Ren said. "I trained with Falkner at the Violet Gym for a while, actually. If I think about it, I have quite the history with Flying-type Gyms."

"You sure do," Skyla said wonderingly. "You're even more impressive than I thought, Ren Goodwin."

"I hardly think so," Ren said quietly. _Damn all this _yehkti_ business,_ he thought. _I'm just starting to realise how much I hate not knowing how much of my own success I'm responsible for._


	27. Catch Your Breath

**A/N**: Annoying? Why would getting reviews be annoying? XD

Really though, thanks to all you guys. Readership seems to be surging again (after 26 chapters this fic finally has more hits than that one oneshot I posted, urgh) and I'm really glad for it. It makes me want to write more! Let me see . . . just posted 29 to the forums, so we should be caught up by Christmas. I'm working on 32 right now. Basically I'll post each chapter as soon as I finish two chapters ahead just so I have a bit of a buffer. I have no idea how long this fic is going to be, but I am entirely prepared to be working on it until I graduate. Probably longer. Hmm. :/ But hey, I love this story. It lives for me like nothing ever has before, and just for that reason, even if nothing else, I will keep writing.

Hicka-bicka boo? Hoo-sha!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Seven<strong>

_Catch Your Breath_

Ren sat quietly in the waiting bay of the Fortree Pokémon Centre with Skyla. It seemed that none of the six Pokémon that had participated in the battle were seriously hurt: Solrock, steady as ever, was already recovering; Manectric was battered and bruised, but largely all right; and Braviary had multiple shallow lacerations that would heal with minimal time and effort. Skyla's Pokémon were in a similar state, he gathered.

The Mistralton Gym Leader was sitting opposite him with her legs crossed, fiddling with her dark red hair. She'd taken it out of its ponytail, and it was now hanging loosely around her face, reaching just past her shoulders. She sat casually, seeming somewhat more relaxed now that her Pokémon were in capable hands.

"So," she said at length, pulling her hair back again and twisting an elastic tie around it to keep it in place. "You're coming to watch the Unova Conference next week?"

Ren nodded. "Yeah, I am. It ought to be good . . . and maybe I'll get a bit more insight into how Unova Pokémon work. I saw the Conference three years ago."

"Hmm . . . who won that one?" Skyla mused. "I don't seem to remember that year."

"A guy called Tyler, I think. He was about eighteen. Had a Samurott and an impressive Hydreigon."

"Oh, yeah, that guy. What happened with him in the end? I mean, obviously he didn't become Champion, but . . ."

"He lost to Grimsley in the end. His Scrafty destroyed Hydreigon, and the rest of Tyler's team just couldn't keep up the same level. I think he did beat Caitlin first, though."

"Well, it's not every Trainer who can do that," Skyla said airily. "Still, the Unova League hasn't had a serious challenge for years. Alder became Champion seven years ago, and he hasn't had to take a challenger since. Poor guy must be getting bored."

Ren tried to imagine being Champion for seven years. It wasn't an attractive prospect. As a matter of fact, he didn't even think he could manage it. He'd go mad before he got halfway there, especially if he didn't get any challengers. "He probably is." Struck by a sudden, frightening thought, he added, "Skyla? Do you know what the precedent is for Champion versus Champion battles?"

She raised an eyebrow. "It doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's purely an exhibition match. Neither Champion's title is in danger, because it's commonly accepted that they're both still the strongest in their region. Why do you ask? You thinking of going up against Alder?"

"Uh . . . maybe," Ren said. "I don't think I'd stand a chance, but at the same time, if he really hasn't had a challenger for seven years . . ."

"It'd be a good idea, actually," Skyla said, uncrossing her legs and leaning forward earnestly. "You could give him a good battle, I think."

"I'm . . . not sure," Ren said, glancing away. "I'll think about it."

"Fair enough. It's a big decision to make on a moment's notice, so just take it easy. You have until next Thursday at least, I guess. You'll want to hold your battle at the Conference if you do challenge him."

Ren nodded silently. _Next Thursday . . . damn it, I didn't really want to be reminded of __that._ Next Thursday night was Nekros' deadline for the spirits. He thought it extremely unlikely that the council of elders would give in to Nekros' demands, which meant that Thursday might very well be Ragnarok. _The spirits can't win against Nekros. They're doomed if they don't do what he wants._ It was clear to him, then, that he had to convince them to go along peacefully with what Nekros demanded. It was their only chance of survival, and despite how much certain individuals annoyed him at times, he didn't want to see any of them dead.

"Ren!"

Ren looked up sharply as Karl burst through the doors of the Pokémon Centre, rushing over towards him and Skyla. "Arceus, Karl, what's the emergency?" Ren asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, I just . . . your battle was . . . that is to say, I- well, I thought . . ."

Ren stood up and grasped Karl by the shoulders, shaking him gently. "Chill, Karl. Relax, then start again."

"Holy crap, man. You sound just like Winona," Karl grumbled, shrugging Ren off. "Okay. I was watching your battle, and, well . . . you two were amazing. I've never seen a battle of that level in person before. I mean, Winona battles some high-level Trainers at the Gym, but none of them are . . . well, they're not the Champion. That was one of the best battles I've ever seen!"

Unsure quite how to respond, Ren changed the topic slightly, seizing on something Karl had said. "Now I think about it, I don't remember seeing you at the Gym when I challenged Winona a couple of years back. You would have been there, wouldn't you?"

"Me? No, actually. I don't remember seeing you battle Winona, so I must have been off on one of my Absol hunts outside the city."

"You're hunting Absol?" Skyla asked with some interest.

Karl spun as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh, uh . . . Leader Skyla!" he spluttered. "Um, yes, I am." He seemed slightly defensive, as if he expected to be reprimanded again.

Skyla only looked thoughtful, however. "Absol are rare and magnificent Pokémon," she said, "even if they can't fly. I have great admiration for anybody able to catch and tame one. Are they common at all in the Hoenn region?"

Karl shook his head. "No. There's rumoured to be a colony of them out on Route 120, but I've found nothing after five years of searching."

"You should come to Unova," Skyla said. "There's a small group that live out on Route 13, near Lacunosa. They hang out around Giant Chasm – they have done ever since the meteor crashed there hundreds of years ago, apparently. Something about the massive residual aura of disaster in the area, or something like that."

"You think I'd have more chance finding one there?" Karl said eagerly.

"Of course you would, if you've been looking here for five years and not seen so much as a whisker. The Chasm Absol have confirmed sightings every few months or so. If you were determined enough, you could probably catch one before too long."

"That'd be amazing," Karl said in barely a whisper. "But I can't get to Unova. There's no way I could afford the trip."

"If you don't mind flying with the cargo, I'll give you a ride back when I leave tomorrow," Skyla said. "Free trip for the friend of the guy who just won the Jet Badge off me. And if you come see me at the Mistralton Gym when you're done, I'll fly you back here on my next trip to Hoenn."

Karl blinked. He looked as if all his Christmases had come at once, but there was something hesitant in his eyes. "That would be . . . great," he said slowly, "but I'll have to think about it."

"Don't think too long!" Skyla warned him with a laugh. "I leave tomorrow at ten. Hey, Ren, you want a ride too? I gotta stop off in Slateport anyway."

"Sure, that sounds good," Ren said. "Thanks."

"Ah! You guys!" Karl exclaimed suddenly. "I almost forgot. Winona sent me to tell you it's gone six o'clock, and the dusk flyover will be starting soon. You should hurry back to the stage," he said. "I've got to go. I'm supposed to be helping the lantern-lighting squad," he added with a grimace before dashing out the door again.

"Well, I sure don't want to miss this," Skyla said, standing up and stretching. "We'd better pick up our Pokémon."

As it turned out, all six Pokémon were largely recovered already. Manectric's movements were still a little stiff, but Braviary's cuts had been treated and were closing already. Solrock was hovering happily in midair between the other two Pokémon's beds when Ren arrived to pick them up.

"They'll all be fine before long," the nurse informed him breezily. "Your Pokémon are strong. Braviary should take at least a couple more hours without doing anything too strenuous, or its cuts might reopen, but it's healing fast. Manectric's the same. One Gym battle in a day is probably enough for any Pokémon."

"They won't be doing any more battling today," Ren promised. "Probably not tomorrow either, for that matter. Do you think Braviary will be okay to take part in the dusk flyover?"

"I wouldn't count on it," the nurse said, brown curls bouncing as she shook her head. "Flying counts as strenuous, I'm afraid."

"Oh, well," Ren said, scratching Braviary's head. "Sorry, buddy. You'll have to sit this one out, I think."

"You good to go, Ren?" Skyla asked, straightening up with her three Poke Balls in her hands. She clipped them back onto her belt even as she headed for the door. "We'd better hurry. The sun sets early at this time of year."

"All right," Ren said, quickly returning Manectric, Solrock and Braviary to their Poke Balls and following her. He nodded politely to the nurse as he backed out the door. "Thank you for taking care of them so well."

"Not a problem. It's my job, after all," she said with a smile.

Ren paused in the doorway with a frown. "Do I . . . know you?" he asked.

The nurse shrugged. "I don't think so," she said. "I don't believe we've met."

"Sorry, then," Ren said quickly, backing out of the door with another nod. "I must have confused you with someone else." He quickly jogged to catch up with Skyla, who had already left the Pokémon Centre.

"Chatting up the nurse, Ren?" she teased as he caught up with her. "I think she's a little old for you."

"Oh, be quiet," Ren grumbled. "My cousin already does that. I don't need you starting too."

As it turned out, they reached the central stage with time to spare. Winona was standing up on the stage with her Skarmory, directing people and Pokémon this way or that. As Ren and Skyla approached, the crowd parting accommodatingly for them, she waved them up onto the stage. "Can I borrow your Flying-types?" she asked.

"Braviary's not allowed to fly for a little while," Ren said regretfully, "but you're more than welcome to take Yanmega with you." He tapped the release button on Yanmega's Poke Ball, and it buzzed happily over to hover by Winona's shoulder.

"Is Braviary all right?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," Ren said, releasing Braviary from its Poke Ball too. The Flying-type hopped around on the stage, looking vaguely incensed at the fact that it wasn't allowed to take to the sky. "He's just resting for a while."

"That's good to hear," Winona said. "Skyla?"

The Mistralton Gym Leader grinned. "I wish I could join you, but I don't have a giant Skarmory to fly on. Take my Pokémon, though, by all means." She ran her hand along her belt, pressing the switch on each of the five Poke Balls held there. Swanna, Unfezant and Swoobat appeared, accompanied by the odd-looking Sigilyph and a Staravia.

Ren raised an eyebrow. "A Staravia? Aren't those endemic to the Sinnoh region?"

"Well, I was passing through a while back when I saw a flock of Starly. I just had to catch one, didn't I? She's shaping up to be quite the capable battler, too. But enough about that. Go on, guys!" she said with a laugh, waving her Pokémon up into the sky. They went in a chorus of squawks and chirps, heading off to the west as they joined the last few Flying-types that were withdrawing from the square. Yanmega buzzed off after them.

Winona vaulted easily up onto Skarmory's back. "It'll be starting in about ten minutes. Find yourselves a spot. It's not like there's anywhere that you can't see from, so anywhere should be fine." With an enthusiastic caw, Skarmory winged its way skyward, leaving Ren and Skyla alone on the stage.

"Is the dusk flyover the end of the Feather Carnival?" Ren asked. "I seem to recall that it is."

"Yeah, it's the last event before everyone goes home. Flyover and fireworks. While it's not as flashy as some of the things going on during the day, it's certainly special to the people here."

"The whole carnival really is, isn't it?" Ren said quietly, looking around at the crowd eagerly milling around the centre of the square. As the light of the sun slipped away behind the treetops, the lanterns that had been hung everywhere were being lit. They were perched on the roofs of stall, tied to posts and hanging from banners and ropes. They provided a good bit of light, but it was nowhere near enough to replace the sunlight that was quickly vanishing. Then again, Ren reasoned, that was likely the point.

The Fortree square took on a much mellower air as people settled in to wait for the finale. There was less of the hubbub that had characterised the daylight hours, and more of a quiet, yet tense, anticipation that buzzed gently throughout the area. The lanterns seemed to be holding their breath too, flickering gently in their places.

"It's something special, all right," Skyla murmured. "Here, we might as well just sit down on the stage to watch. It's not like anyone's gonna tell us off." She did just that, patting the boards next to her.

Ren shrugged and sat down, folding his legs and leaning back on his hands. The sky was a cloudless shade of lavender, halfway between dusk and full daylight. A trickle of red bled across the sky from the west, the dying sun making one last effort to be seen. Even as he sat in silence, however, it bled away, the sky turning an even darker purple.

"You think Karl will take you up on your offer and go back to Unova with you?" he asked at length.

"I think he will," Skyla said. "He does seem like a guy who's focused on what he's doing. In a way, though, I guess it does depend on just how determined he is. If he's that set on catching an Absol here in Fortree, then leaving now might seem like a failure to him."

"That does kind of sound like how he'd see it," Ren said worriedly.

"You think he should come back to Unova?"

"Yeah," Ren said. "He told me today about his goal of becoming a Gym Leader. If he stays here in Fortree, he'll never get there. And he's said he'll stay in Fortree until he finds an Absol. If you take him to Unova and he can find what he's looking for there, well . . . he'll be able to move on."

"You think he can make Gym Leader?" Skyla asked. "It's not like Pokémon Leagues let just anyone set up an official Gym. It's a really tough thing to do, especially for a kid his age."

"So's becoming the League Champion," Ren noted, "but look at me."

Skyla chuckled. "You have a point, but being a Gym Leader takes entirely different qualities than becoming Champion. It's not easier or harder, just . . . different. You have to continually work at it, keeping it up for years or even decades. It's not just that, though. You've got to have something . . . a little bit special about you. It's hard to put it into words, but there's something that every Gym Leader has. A certain brand of pride, I guess you could call it."

She seemed troubled, so Ren suggested, "Why not try telling this to Karl? He's the one who needs to hear it, I'd say."

"You're right, I guess," Skyla said. "But I want to ask you, Ren. You know Karl better than I do, so do you think he can make it? I don't want to give him false hope."

"I only met him today, you know," Ren grumbled. "But yes, I definitely think that if anyone can do it, he can. He's an interesting guy, and he knows more than he lets on, I think . . . but I can definitely see him making it someday."

"That's all I need," said Skyla with a grin. "If he wants to go, I'll take him to Unova tomorrow."

"Thanks," Ren said. "I know it'll mean a lot to him – not that he'll admit it, of course."

Silence fell once more as Ren returned his attention to the sky in the west. The last traces of sunlight were disappearing behind the thick trees, leaving the multitudinous lanterns as the only sources of light in the square.

Moments later, a small black shape became barely visible in the sky to the west. It grew larger, followed by several others heading slowly towards the square. Ren noticed the crowd around the stage falling silent and still, all eyes glued to the sky.

Quickly enough, the lead shape became identifiable as Skarmory, with Winona just visible sitting on its back. Behind it in perfect triangular formation flew well over a hundred Flying-type Pokémon, flying with all the precision of military aircraft. The Pokémon were somewhat indistinct, illuminated only by the myriad of lanterns beneath them, but Ren could see enough. There were Pelipper and Wingull, Hoppip and Skiploom, and Swellow and Taillow. Dozens of different kinds of Pokémon from all over the world were evident, though the largest part of the group was definitely the Hoenn contingent. Ren spotted Yanmega flying directly behind Winona and Skarmory, alongside Skyla's Unfezant.

Nobody made a sound as the Pokémon flew overhead. As they passed the stage, Ren tipped his head back to watch Skarmory leading them over the square. There were no fancy manoeuvres or clever tricks to see here, unlike some of the flamboyant displays he'd seen throughout the day. There were no caws, screeches or chirps; the Pokémon simply flew quietly across the square, their silent trajectory dead straight.

Yet even so, Ren could tell that it was the most appreciated display of the day. Every resident of Fortree City was present, and there was a sense of reverence in the crowd that was almost palpable. A rebellious part of his mind wanted to say something to break the silence, but it was quickly stifled. Though nobody had said a word against it, he felt like he would be lynched if he made a noise now. So he held his breath and watched the Pokémon stream by overhead. There were more of them than he had originally thought, the entire fleet taking more than a minute to pass over his head at their sedate, reduced speed.

As they passed overhead, Ren shifted so that he could see them departing towards the east. He didn't feel the same sense of connection with the Flying-types that was evident on the face of every Fortree resident around him, but he was beginning to understand their attraction. The flyover had demonstrated that for him. _Simplicity and grace. No unnecessary movements, no showmanship. That's the Flying type at its purest_, he realised.

He finally dropped his head to see Skyla half-smiling sideways at him. A brief glimmer in her eyes made him wonder whether she was reading his mind.

Ren jumped as the first of the fireworks went off, his heart suddenly pounding. Within seconds, the sky was filled with multicoloured bursts of light, the explosions generating huge, booming soundwaves that seemed to shake the ground beneath him. He closed his eyes for a moment and forced himself to remain calm. _Wasn't expecting that, somehow._ Skyla had mentioned the fireworks, but somehow it had gone right out of his mind.

He took a deep, slightly shaky breath as the pyrotechnics continued to rattle and crack overhead, sending bursts of blue, red and gold light spiralling across the sky.

After the fireworks display ended, Ren made his way back to the Pokémon Centre as soon as he had recovered Yanmega from Winona. The Bug-type seemed to have enjoyed being part of the finale, and it buzzed happily at his shoulder the whole way through town.

As he made his way through the crowd that was filtering quickly away from the square, he felt the cool metal of the Dreamlight bumping gently against his chest beneath his shirt.

_I've got a job to do tonight,_ he said silently to himself. _As fun as today was, there are more important things to worry about._

When he arrived at the Pokémon Centre, the curly-haired young nurse from earlier was still on duty at the counter. "Looking for a room for the night?" she asked with a smile as Ren approached.

"If you could, yeah," Ren said gratefully.

"Sure. Most of the people who attend the Feather Carnival are actually locals, so we're not too heavily booked. I'll put you in number 17, all right?" she suggested, tapping a few buttons and holding out a swipe card. "Down the hallway to your right, fourth door on the left."

"Thanks," he said, taking the card. When the nurse didn't speak, he hovered awkwardly for a moment. "Look, um . . . are you sure we haven't met? I'm sorry, but you just seem really familiar somehow."

She frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment. "I don't think so. Then again, you must have come here to Fortree once for the Feather Badge, right? I might have been here then. We get lots of Trainers through here, though, so I can't recall every one."

"That must be it," Ren said, nodding. "Sorry for bothering you. Good night!" He beat a hasty retreat, feeling vaguely embarrassed for reasons he couldn't quite fathom.

Room 17 was just as he expected: small and sparsely furnished with a single bed and a nightstand. Six small hollows in the top of the nightstand would accommodate his Pokémon team if he wanted, but he left them in his bag by the bed. He set the alarm clock on the nightstand for seven in the morning.

_Here we go,_ he thought as he lay down, touching the Dreamlight carefully as if to make sure it was still there. He had ten days to convince the spirits to do as Nekros had asked, but he had the feeling he was going to need all the time that was available to him in order to do so. _Elly's so contrary she'd probably disagree with me for the sake of it, and Elsin seemed particularly angry with the _Iehkti'na_. Is there more history there than I thought?_

_Only one way to find out._

* * *

><p>And hey, look! This is the end of Arc 2. Next time on Champion Game, Ren writes notes and eats pastries! Wait, what?<p> 


	28. Words of Power

**A/N**: Here goes Arc 4! As promised, notes and pastries. Not to mention, you know, plot advancement. This arc is going to be an exciting one, especially towards the end of it. I'm working on integrating some more action into the story, so expect to see a bit of that in 30/31 and again in maybe 34/35? This arc also contains the Mauville Contest, which could go for two chapters or, like . . . six, depending on how much emphasis I end up giving it. So that comes in at 32. But you're sick of me talking by now, right? Here we go!

* * *

><p><strong>Arc 4 – Episode the Second<strong>

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_Words of Power_

"_You really are a strange one, aren't you?" Ren says, leaning across the table and brashly poking Afro Glameow on the nose. The Pokémon recoils slightly with a hiss, but it doesn't seem angry – just a little put out. "Fine," Ren grumbles, slamming his palms down on the checkered tablecloth and pushing himself to his feet. "If you won't tell me what you want, I'm going to leave and find somewhere else to hang out."_

_Afro Glameow gives a low hiss, but doesn't move, its sharp teeth glinting as it seems to smile at him across the club sandwiches. The table is laden with picnic food of all kinds – sandwiches, cakes, cheese, salad and drinks. Ren isn't hungry, though, so he turns to leave._

_He sees the black hole in the ground a split second before he puts his foot into it. Eyes widening in surprise, he has no choice but to allow it to yank him through and into the second ring._

"Damn it," Ren muttered as he sat up, glancing around. He was back in his bed at the Pokémon Centre again, but he was fully dressed. Moonlight shone through the small window, casting a shaft of white light across his legs. More importantly, though, there was a large man in a hooded cloak sitting on the end of his bed.

"Yehktira," Maho croaked by way of greeting, sounding – as always – as if every syllable cost him dearly. He lifted an awkward hand and snapped his gloved fingers. The room melted and swirled, replaced almost instantly by the reception area at the front of the Pokémon Centre, which was fare more brightly lit. Maho was seated opposite Ren on a red plastic chair that looked far too small to support his weight.

"Maho," Ren said, slightly unsure where he stood with the big magician. "I'm sorry, but we kind of need to go to the third ring, like . . . now. I have to talk to Elly and the council about the _Iehkti'na_."

Maho shook his head slowly.

"What?" Ren exclaimed, suddenly confused. "No, really! I need to talk to them! If I don't . . . it could be bad."

A rattling, gravelly exhalation of breath was audible from within the swirling darkness that occupied Maho's hood. His arm twisting at an angle that was just a tiny bit too unnatural for Ren's taste, he reached into one of the many tattered pockets that his coat possessed and drew out a small, battered notebook and pencil. He wrote intently for a few seconds before handing the book to Ren.

Thanks to Maho's scrawled handwriting, Ren could barely make out the words. He glared at it for a moment, deciphering the scribbles. _The council have forbidden me from taking you into the third ring tonight._

"What? But why?" Ren asked, handing the book back to Maho, who immediately began writing again. Ren's mind raced. What could Elly and the others be up to? He had told them the previous night that he needed to talk to them about Nekros, and they had as good as told him they would discuss it tonight. Were they deliberately ignoring him? Or had something else happened in his absence?

_The council did not give me a reason_, came the written reply. _They simply gave me my orders, and I must follow them without question. I apologise, yehktira, but for tonight, at least, you must stay here._

Ren swore quietly but heatedly. There would be no arguing the point, he could tell. "Can you take them a message, at least?" he asked, making to pass the notebook back.

Maho nodded, holding out the pencil rather than taking it. "Back," he grunted.

Ren took the pencil and flipped to the back of the book, where there was an untouched page. He paused for a minute, trying to think what to write. In the end, he simply outlined Nekros' demands as the _Iehkti'na's_ leader had related to him, adding afterwards: _Nekros has promised that nobody will be hurt if you give them what they want. I saw the extent of their power last night, and I know there's no way you could survive._ He wasn't entirely sure why, but he neglected to mention the shadowy pool in the Glade of Dying Light. It didn't feel like something he should be sharing, somehow. _It sounds brutal, but that's how it is. I really want to talk to you all about this in person, so please let me into the third ring tomorrow night. _It sounded a little desperate, even to him, but he left it as it was. Getting the message across was more important than his pride.

Maho took the book and pencil back with a nod, then sat silently. He might have been looking at Ren, but it was difficult to tell when his face was obscured as it was.

"I . . . I don't mean to pry," Ren said after a couple of minutes, when it had become apparent that Maho wasn't going to continue the conversation, "but why do you keep your face hidden?" He held his breath after speaking, wondering if he had trodden on dangerous ground.

Maho didn't move for a full twenty seconds, leaving Ren to wonder if he was simply ignoring the question, but eventually he took up the pencil and began to write. He scribbled quickly for a while before handing the notebook to Ren again.

_I was involved in an accident several hundred years ago. An accident of magical origin, that is. An experiment that went wrong, in a way. It wasn't enough to kill me, but it severely damaged my body beyond repair. Beneath this coat and this veil of darkness, I am a twisted, horrible mockery of what I once was. I frighten people, especially the yehktira from the human world, who are not used to such magical injuries. So I hide my face and my body to prevent further shame and disgust. It is not an uncommon practice for ugly people in your world, I hear. I am not ashamed of how I look, but what I hate is how people look at me as if I should be._

Ren handed the notebook back silently, looking at the awkward giant with new eyes. It explained a lot. The accident had to be the reason why he moved so uncomfortably. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine the kind of horrible accident that could cause such extensive – and permanent – damage to an essentially immortal being. The details didn't bear thinking about. "Are you . . . in pain? Even now?"

Maho paused for a moment, but then nodded.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry," Ren said. "I shouldn't have asked about something so . . . personal."

Maho shook his head, then wrote again. _I do not mind_, Ren read. _The question arises often, and it was a long time ago. I live with the pain every day of my life, but I have grown used to it. I am stronger than the pain, and so I continue to overcome it. Perhaps one day it will consume me, but until that day comes I will carry on as if nothing is wrong._

"You're . . . different to how I thought you were," Ren said at length. "I thought you were . . . angry? You seemed angry, somehow. But you're not. You're just carrying a really heavy burden."

_You don't fear me any more,_ Maho wrote. _This is good. I think we can learn much from each other, yehktira – if we survive the coming days, that is._

Ren grinned bitterly. "You're right. Tell you what – if those ten days pass and we're still here, we can spend all the time you want doing . . . whatever it is you want to do, I guess. I can tell you about my world, and you can tell me about yours. From what I saw in your workshop the other night, I'm genuinely interested. I want to know where you came from, for one thing. If you came into existence seven hundred years ago, what existed here before? Did anybody dream? It's those kinds of things that I want to know. And I'm sure there's things you want to know about our world as well."

_I like the way your mind works, yehktira_, Maho wrote._ You are like Steven Stone – never content to accept things at face value. That is good. It is what will prevent you from being fooled._

"Who . . . who wants to fool me?" Ren asked. It was a loaded question, and he knew it. He could tell that Maho knew what he was really asking: _Do you know something about the Iehkti'na that I don't?_

_The worst thing about bright young minds,_ Maho wrote in reply, _is that they attract an undue amount of unwanted attention._

"Well, that's cryptic," Ren grumbled. He sighed. "Look, Maho . . . are you sure you can't take me to the third ring? It really is important. Crucial, in fact!"

_My orders are absolute,_ Maho wrote, handing Ren the book with a shake of his head. _I do what the council commands at all times, except in combat. I am one of the Four Generals, and as such there is no higher authority on the field of battle. I take tactical commands from Cicero, of course, but I retain absolute command otherwise._

"So even the members of the council have to do what you say?" Ren said thoughtfully, filing the information away for later.

_Only those in my division – which is only Salinthia Silverwood. Her sister belongs to the Unarmed Division, Balthazar is a member of the Tactical Division and both Darkwood and Elsin serve with the Armed Division. In battle, each of them defers to their respective General. It is a complicated system for sure, but it ensures that no one person or group has enough power to run everything._

"Because if that person decided to . . . they could ruin you," Ren said, a cold shiver trickling down his spine. "Or just take over entirely like some kind of dictator."

_You think too highly of us,_ Maho wrote. _We trust each other well enough, although that is a small part of the reason. No, the system remains largely because the delicate distribution of power ensures that we will not be left leaderless should one person die. Imagine if the one being with control over all martial and everyday affairs was killed. While we would surely regroup soon enough, it is conceivable that we might be vulnerable long enough for the Iehkti'na to destroy us. It almost happened once before._

Ren started to speak, but Maho stood up and took the book off him again, writing in it one more time and holding it out. _The Soul Bonds are whole once more. It is time for you to leave._

Sighing, Ren stood up and turned around to find the portal to the first ring affixed to the wall behind him. "You'll give the council my message?" he asked, turning back momentarily.

Maho nodded.

"Thank you," Ren said, then touched the portal and allowed himself to be sucked through it.

"_This is really starting to get old," Ren says, selecting a club sandwich and throwing it into the river that runs nearby, glittering softly in the weak afternoon sunlight. The sandwich skips like a flat stone before sinking – one, two, three, four, _splosh_._

_Afro Glameow yowls tiredly, wriggling its hindquarters as it crouches before leaping up onto the table and poking the plate of Louise cake with its nose._

"_Yeah, those do look good," Ren says, taking one and biting into it. The coconut meringue has just the right balance of brittleness and softness, crumbling pleasantly in his mouth, and the jam is sweet and thick._

"_Say," he says at length, "what in hell are you?" His tone is conversational, but he crouches down to glare seriously at Afro Glameow. "Stop playing games with me, would you? It's getting old."_

_Afro Glameow stretches, seeming supremely unconcerned. It opens its mouth, and for a split second, Ren thinks it's about to speak. But what issues forth instead is a loud, blaring klaxon noise that knocks him backwards onto the ground._

"Nnngh," Ren groaned indistinctly, force of habit slinging his hand out of bed to slam the off button on the alarm clock. The blaring stopped, and he allowed his arm to dangle off the bed. He looked up at the plain white ceiling with bleary eyes, realising with a start that it had been some time since he had woken up in a room like this.

The last time would have been before the League Conference about three weeks ago. It wasn't that long, really, but it seemed like longer because he'd gotten so used to it. He'd slept under the stars often enough, sure, but he had become accustomed to the comfortably impersonal rooms at the Pokémon Centres. The Ever Grande Conference had provided hotel rooms for all its participants, meaning that he hadn't slept in a Pokémon Centre since the night before he arrived in Ever Grande City.

Sitting up, he swore quietly as the events that had transpired in his dreams came flooding back to him. It was a disorienting feeling to begin with, but the utterly infuriating nature of the memories needled him.

What had the council been playing at? He knew that he had to get in to talk to them tomorrow night. _Sure, I've got nine more nights – well, I shouldn't count next Thursday, so eight – but they're going to take a power of convincing._

Cursing ill-naturedly, he stood and kicked the side of the bed in frustration. Waking up was the worst part, he decided. All he could do was walk around and pretend that nothing was wrong. He couldn't tell anybody about the world of dreams – except perhaps Steven, but some part of him shied from that idea – but nor could he do anything to help. There was literally nothing he could do except continue running over his arguments in his head. It was maddening, but all he could do was bear with it and continue his everyday life as if nothing was wrong.

That was the worst of the worst, he reflected as he got dressed and collected his things: the fact that he had to pretend. Not only did he have to pretend that being the Champion was as simple as it seemed at face value, but he also had to pretend that there wasn't a very good chance that the world was going to end in a little over a week. It was insanely difficult to keep his expression neutral when talking to people. As the nurse smiled at him in the corridor, he wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shout, _"Don't you care? We're all going to die and I'm the only one who gives a damn!"_

He simply nodded and smiled back awkwardly. _What is wrong with me? I can't even think of taking it out on people who know nothing about it!_

"Morning, Ren," Skyla said as he stepped into the reception area.

Ren blinked, surprised to see her waiting for him. "Hi, Skyla. What are you doing here so early?"

"The early bird catches the worm, Ren," she said with a smile. "But yeah, I'm early. We need to get down to the airfield by seven thirty. There's some bad weather rolling in that could make it difficult to take off if we wait too long."

"Oh, right," Ren said. "We'd better go, then. What about Karl?"

"He'll be there waiting for us." She seemed quietly pleased. "I talked to him last night after you left, and he said he'd come to Unova."

"That's good," Ren said as he led the way out of the Pokémon Centre, handing his swipe card back to the nurse on the way. "Thanks," he said.

"See you next time," she said with a smile.

"Ah, yeah," he said. "I'll come back."

"You _are_ hitting on that poor girl," Skyla said with a barely concealed laugh as they left.

"I was not," Ren grumbled. _But she _was_ cute_, he admitted silently. _Probably about five years older than me, though._

"Sure you weren't," Skyla said, but she let the matter drop, for which Ren was grateful.

There was a car waiting for them outside. Skyla got into the driver's seat and waited for him to climb in the opposite side before she she hit the accelerator.

The airfield was about five minutes away by car, it turned out. It lay to the north of Fortree, which would explain why he hadn't noticed it when he flew in with Winona. A large strip of forest had been cleared away to make room for a runway, a squat control tower and a small terminal. There were no commercial flights going in or out of Fortree – only cargo shipments, and rare ones at that.

A large, bulky grey cargo plane was parked just off the runway, Ren noticed as they approached. It had a heavy look to it, with a flat nose and wide body supported by large wings.

"That's our ride," Skyla said when she saw him looking. "The prep should be just about done by now."

Ren was somewhat surprised when they drove straight up to the plane rather than the terminal. He got out of the car apprehensively, looking up at the plane that loomed well over his head. It was sure to be a bit more of a comfortable ride than Skarmory, he hoped.

"Hey, Champ!"

He glanced upwards in surprise to see Karl's head sticking out of a door on the side of the plane. "Karl," he said. "I'm glad you decided to come along after all."

"Yeah, yeah," Karl said, waving his hand dismissively. "Come on up already," he urged, tapping the ladder that had been attached to the door.

Ren glanced at Skyla, who grinned. "Go on, then," she said. "We'll be going in about fifteen minutes, so get settled in. Unfortunately, you guys have to ride with the cargo. She's not a passenger plane, so the accommodation for comfort is hardly up to scratch. Still, you'll live. I'll be up the front flying, obviously."

"Wait, you fly the plane yourself?" Ren said.

"What? Didn't think a girl could fly?" she teased.

"You didn't seem like-" he began, but cut himself off when it occurred to him just how stupid he sounded. Of course Skyla was the type to fly a plane. She specialised in Flying-type Pokémon, after all.

"Heh. All right, sport. Up you go," she said, pushing him gently towards the ladder.

Ren climbed up quickly, then put his head back out the door. "Uh . . . sorry," he said.

"Nothing to apologise for," she said with an airy wave of her hand as a man in blue overalls disengaged the ladder and pulled it away from the side of the plane. "Just shut that door for me, hey?"

"Er . . ." Ren looked around. The door had opened outwards, and now lay flat against the side of the plane. He reached out carefully, hanging on tightly to a bar on the inside, and grabbed it, pulling it back towards him. It was extraordinarily heavy, but he managed to pull it to. Glancing at the instructions printed on the inside of the door, he lifted a red lever, slid a green catch and slammed the door shut with a _boom _before releasing them.

"I didn't see you last night," Karl said as Ren turned to look at the space he now found himself in. It was vaguely cylindrical, as he had expected, with a flat floor at the bottom. There were dozens of crates of various sizes stacked against the curved walls and tied down firmly, leaving a fair amount of room in the centre of the space.

"I was tired," Ren said apologetically, scratching the back of his head as he perched himself on the edge of a crate. "Sorry about that. I wanted to talk to you about . . . well, _this_," he said, gesturing around at the plane, "but Skyla clearly beat me to it, so . . ."

Karl shook his head. "Nah, I'd decided to go ahead with this before she even came to talk to me about it. She just went on and on, though . . . yeesh."

"Are you . . . okay with going to Unova?" Ren asked. "It's a big decision to make on the spur of the moment like this."

"It's fine," Karl said, sitting down on another crate opposite Ren and running his hands through his shoulder-length black hair. "It's not like anyone would miss me that much."

"That's not true!" Ren said. "Winona would, and I think I would too."

"You would? But you only met me yesterday!"

"True," Ren said, "but you seem pretty cool. I was looking forward to hanging out with you again the next time I came back to Fortree."

Karl was silent for a minute, but then he stood and walked a few metres away, facing in the opposite direction so Ren couldn't see his expression. ". . . Thanks," he said eventually. "We will hang out again sometime. I'll make you that promise, Ren."

Ren smiled slightly, understanding the deeper meaning behind the words. "I'll hold you to it," he said.

There was a loud crackling noise, and Skyla's voice – slightly distorted – emanated from a speaker on the wall. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for choosing Mistralton airlines for your flight today. When the seatbelt light is on . . . wait, we don't have one of those. When the engine is running, it's best if you buckle yourselves into one of the crew seats you'll see behind you. Please don't release any Pokémon in the cargo bay, and keep all electronic devices turned off, as they could interfere with my systems, sending us all spiralling to a fiery, painful and premature death. I hope you have a pleasant flight!"

Karl glanced sideways at Ren. "Suddenly, I'm not so sure I want to fly all the way to Unova after all."

Ren nodded, chewing his lip in apprehension. He headed towards the back of the plane and saw two large, heavy-looking seats bolted to one wall, each complete with its own six-point seatbelt. "These don't look too comfortable," he said.

"On the plus side," Karl said, sizing them up critically, "if the plane crashes, they'll probably bounce."

"That's awfully morbid of you," Ren said.

Softly at first, the plane began to vibrate, humming gently beneath Ren's feet. Slowly, as the engines warmed up, the vibrations became stronger and louder until they blocked out everything else trying to get into his ears.

Ren buckled himself into his seat, watching Karl struggle to get his seatbelt under control. The noise of the plane's engines made conversation impossible, so Ren just twisted in his seat to peer out one of the minuscule portholes that were the only sources of light in the dim cargo bay. As he felt the plane begin to move below him, he saw the trees of Fortree turning past.

After about thirty seconds, the plane must have hit the runway – it was hard to tell with his limited view – for it sped up majorly, wheels rumbling audibly along the tarmac below. With a slightly gut-wrenching jerk, the ground fell away from beneath them and they were flying. He had a brief view of Route 119's treetops before the tiny porthole showed only sky.

Karl was trying to say something to him, he could tell, but even when he leaned over and yelled in Ren's ear, he could barely make out the words. The noise of the engines was unbelievably loud – albeit still bearable – so he just waved his hand and mouthed, _Tell me later_.

_That's what I get for flying cargo,_ he thought ruefully, _but I guess I shouldn't complain._


	29. It's a Troublesome Life

**A/N**: And we're caught up! Chapter 30 will go up when I'm finished with 32 (likely on the 27th or 28th). Merry Christmas, everyone. Have fun and stay safe.

Not too much to say about the chapter, other than that it prods the fic in the right direction to be answering some burning questions that have been hanging around for twenty-odd chapters. XD

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Nine<strong>

_It's a Troublesome Life_

They landed in Slateport about fifty minutes later by Ren's estimate. As the engines powered down, Skyla's voice came crackling over the intercom again. "Bing-bong!" she said cheerily. "We have now arrived in Slateport City! I hope you had a pleasant flight, and you're not too deaf right now. In hindsight, I probably should have given you earmuffs. Sorry about that! Anyway, once the engines have shut off completely, please open the door you entered by. Someone should throw some stairs up there for you, I hope."

"She really is kind of . . ." Karl started, but trailed off with a helpless shrug.

"What's that?" Ren said with a frown. "I think I've gone deaf!"

Karl laughed. "Very funny. Now come on, help me out of this frigging seatbelt."

Ren struggled with his own first, unbuckling all of the many parts that had seemed so simple to clip together in the first place. By the time he could stand up, Karl was all but free as well.

"I got stuck in an Ariados web in Johto once," Ren commented as he watched Karl fighting to undo the rest of the clips. "It was easier to get out of than these things."

"You could've helped," Karl grunted as he finally extricated himself from his seat and made his way over to the door, tugging on the lever and shoving it open. He wobbled, almost overbalancing, but regained his footing and turned back to Ren. "Well . . . I guess this is it," he said as the large hatch at the back of the plane cranked open, admitting a couple of overall-wearing men who started untying some of the crates towards the rear and lugging them away.

"You're right," Ren said, glancing out the door as a man in a Day-Glo jacket pushed a wheeled staircase up towards it. "Hey, Karl . . . thanks. For showing me around the carnival and all that, I mean. I had more fun yesterday than I've had in a long time."

"Even when someone tried to ruin it by stealing our Pokémon?" Karl asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Especially when that happened," Ren said. "That was actually fun, too!"

"For some of us, maybe," Karl grumbled. "I was worrying my ass off back at the stage. Your Pokémon didn't even get stolen!"

"Yeah, but she sure thought they did," Ren said, chuckling as he remembered the thief's reaction. "I wish you could have seen her face."

"Oh, I'll see it someday," Karl said darkly. "I'll get you to point her out to me, and I'll punch her in the face for trying to steal Scar and Sableye."

"Oh, lighten up," Ren said, slapping the older boy on the shoulder. "All's well that ends well, right?"

"Whatever," Karl said. "But I'm not going to give up on getting her back. Anyway, this is where we go our separate ways, Champ. It was good to meet you." He reached his hand out as if he was going to shake Ren's, but evidently thought better of it, clenching his hand into a fist instead.

Ren grinned and bumped his own fist against Karl's. _When was the last time I had someone to do that with?_ he thought, a sudden twinge of an unfamiliar feeling running through him. He let his hand fall slowly, looking at Karl's surly face one last time before he turned to head down the stairs.

The wind snatched at him as soon as he exited the door, forcing him to grab onto the handrail. A few steps down, he turned to look back up to the door. "Hey, Karl?" he said, raising his voice slightly over the wind.

"Yeah?"

"You go to Unova, and you catch that Absol, all right?"

"Of course I will," Karl said.

"Then you come back here, all right? Take your time, but come back to Hoenn. Start your Gym up in Fallarbor, and as soon as you get officially registered, you give me a call, okay? I want to be the first person to win a Gym Badge off you. No matter how long it takes you, I'm gonna be the first one through the doors."

"Deal," Karl said, grinning genuinely. "But don't count on winning! You've got a head start on me, but I'll pass you!"

"It's a promise," Ren said, then turned to carry on down the stairs. At the bottom, he turned and waved as Karl yanked the door shut again. Looking up to his right, he could just make out Skyla in the cockpit. She threw him a quick salute, which he returned. Turning, he made his way to the terminal gate.

Slateport was a very different city to Fortree, he reflected idly as he left the airport. Situated on the outskirts of town as it was, the airport road gave him a good view of the city, with its forest of glistening silver spires puncutated only occasionally by greenery and colour.

It was still relatively early in the morning – not quite eight thirty – when he left the airport, so he decided to walk home. It would have been faster to take a bus or taxi, of course, but he felt the need to walk a little to get his thoughts back in order. Back in the warmer temperatures of Slateport, he was grateful of the T-shirt he'd packed the previous morning. He would have been sweating by now had he been wearing the bulkier shirt he'd worn the previous day.

There was no footpath on the motorway into the city, so he deviated slightly and took a back way – a hiking path he, Tim and Cole had discovered seven years earlier that ran roughly parallel to the highway. It was cooler amongst the trees, although it was still a totally different feeling to Fortree. For one thing, the sounds of vehicles streaming by on the road less than a hundred metres away ruined the illusion. Still, the woodlands – such as they were – were fresh and relaxing after the cacophony of Skyla's cargo plane.

Struck by a sudden thought, he stopped and peered up through the trees, back in the direction of the airport. He couldn't see Skyla's plane, though; either it had gone already, or it was still grounded. He wondered if he would see the Gym Leader again. He'd liked Skyla. She was . . . _bubbly_. There were few enough bubbly people in his life, so Skyla had been a refreshing change.

_Cecilia doesn't count_, he thought with a tinge of bitterness that surprised him. Somehow, the world of dreams and its inhabitants seemed to be even further removed from reality than they actually were. It was like they existed only in his head, and they seemed to entrench themselves deeper in there every day. Every time the spirits crossed his mind, he realised again just how alien they would be to anybody he mentioned them to. It really was like they existed for him and nobody else.

_Well, I guess they might as well_, he told himself wryly. _You can't tell anybody else about them. Imagine what would happen if all this got out. Someone could steal the Dreamlight, or try and study it. Someone who doesn't deserve it could end up with it . . ._

_I need to stop dwelling on this_, he chastised himself wryly.

He elected to go through the centre of Slateport City for the first time in quite a while. Unlike the last time that he had passed through town, he kept his head up and didn't try to avoid people. While he still wasn't entirely comfortable with being an accessible public figure, he had been thinking back on Steven's advice and realised that it wasn't going to get any easier.

So he gritted his teeth and walked through Slateport's CBD, concentrating on the sights of the city that he'd hardly seen for the past five years. Some things had changed, while others hadn't. The cafe on the corner of 5th and Main was still going strong by the looks of things; today's special was apparently a Magikarp Sundae, whatever that was. His favourite bistro on 6th was gone, though.

"Bugger," he murmured as he stood outside what was now a fashion boutique. He glanced at the shops on either side just to make sure he was in the right place, but there was no mistaking it. Geraldo's was gone.

He'd had his tenth birthday there almost five years ago. His dad had flown in from Unova just for the occasion, and his aunts and uncles and cousins had all turned up too. The staff had noticed the air of festivity and made a fuss of him, and all in all, it had been the best birthday of his life.

"Remember this place, buddy?" he said quietly, tapping the release switch on Zangoose's Poke Ball. The Pokémon looked swiftly around the crowded street as if expecting a threat, but Ren just laughed softly and waited for the realisation to hit.

He hadn't been expecting an overly emotional response from Zangoose, so it came as something of a surprise when the Normal-type reached up and put a clawed paw on his hand, looking up into his eyes with an unnaturally soft expression.

Yes, the place held memories for them both. The birthday dinner had not only been a birthday party, it had been a celebration of Ren's imminent departure to become a Pokémon Trainer. At the height of the evening, Ren's father had proudly presented him with a single Poke Ball, thus setting into motion a chain of events that had reached far beyond what any of those present could have imagined. That night had been when his life had truly begun.

He thought back for a moment to the times when he didn't have Zangoose with him. It shocked him to realise how empty his life had seemed in comparison. Even though his partner had been caustic at first – and admittedly, still remained abrasive and violent – they had grown up together. Zangoose had only been young when Ren's father had captured him, so the two had gone through their formative years together. Ren had achieved more in five years than he had ever dreamt possible, and he had done it all with Zangoose by his side. It was a sobering thought, really.

"Ooh, it really is him!"

"Seriously? No way!"

"Look, he's even got the Zangoose! See?"

"Go talk to him, then! Go on!"

"He seems busy . . ."

Ren tilted his head back and sighed lightly before turning to see who was talking behind him. Two girls about his own age were standing a few feet away on the pavement, clearly trying to talk without him noticing. He cocked an eyebrow at them expectantly. "Can I help you two with something?" he asked.

_You sound like a douche,_ his subconscious told him with quiet glee.

"Um . . ." said one of the girls, approaching him cautiously with her friend in tow. She was short and blonde, wearing a red tank top. "Are you . . . Ren Goodwin? The new Champion?"

"That's me," he said, making sure to smile. He didn't really want to come off as arrogant.

"Wow, that's . . ." she breathed, seemingly unable to find anything else to say.

"I went to Ever Grande to watch the League!" the other girl said, stepping out from behind her friend. She was a little taller, with long brown hair and a nervously toothy smile. "I was in the crowd when you battled Steven!"

"Ah, that's great!" Ren said, glad to have found some familiar territory that _probably _wouldn't cause him to make an ass of himself. Hopefully. "I was kind of overwhelmed by how many people turned up, actually. I didn't realise it was such a big deal to so many people!"

"Well, uh, I don't normally go, but I'd heard that the guy who won the Conference was from Slateport, so I got a bunch of us together and went along to support him – I mean, you."

"Ah!" Ren said, snapping his fingers as he remembered something. "Was that you guys in the crowd at the final match with the big red 'SLATEPORT REPRESENT' banner?"

"Yes!" the brunette squeaked. "Yes, we made that for you! I can't believe you actually saw it!"

"Are you kidding? It was great to see that up in the stands," Ren said. "It really helped me calm down, actually. I was so nervous when I went out for that battle, and seeing some hometown support was . . . something really special, actually. So thanks for that."

"I told you that you should have come," the brunette said slyly to her friend. Neither of them seemed to have anything else to say, so Ren tried again.

"Well, thanks for coming along. The number of people there was amazing, and to be honest, I don't think it's really sunk in yet how big it is." _What's this?_ he thought absently. _I'm actually talking to fans – holy crap, I have fans – without stumbling or running away? Since when could I do that?_

"Well, uh, congratulations!" said the blonde, sounding even more uncomfortable than Ren was feeling. "Hey, uh, I know you're probably busy, but . . . do you think you could, like, sign my Poke Ball or something?"

"Yeah, I can do that," Ren said, a strange sort of pride rising in his chest. "I don't think anyone's asked me to sign anything before, though. Much less a Poke Ball."

"I-if that's too weird, I think I have a book in here or something!" the blonde said, digging through her bag.

"No, that's fine," Ren said, raising a hand to stop her. "Is there a Pokémon in here?" he asked as she handed him a red and white sphere.

"Yes, it's my Zigzagoon," she told him.

"Can I see it?" he asked on the spur of the moment.

"O-of course!" she said.

Ren went to push the button on the ball, but he paused before he did. "You know, I can't believe I forgot to ask your names," he said. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm Aura," she said. "And this is Kelsey," she added, gesturing to the brunette.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "Now, let's see what your Pokémon looks like."

"It's not very strong," Aura said hastily, reaching out a hand as if to stop him, but then snatching it back quickly. "Nothing like what you're used to at all, of course!"

"That's not necessarily true," Ren said, releasing the Pokémon and crouching down to examine it. The furry Normal-type with its spiky brown coat eyed him warily, scooting backwards to hide behind Aura's legs. "Every Pokémon has its own distinctive kind of strength. While some may be more powerful than others, each will shine in its own way. You just have to find that one place where it excels and capitalise on that."

"Wow," Aura breathed. "That's . . ."

"Impressive," Kelsey finished. "Do all Champions, like, talk like that?"

"Like what?" Ren asked, tilting his head upwards to look at her.

"Well, as soon as you started talking about Pokémon, you got kind of distant," she said. "Like you weren't really there."

"Well, I guess it's kind of natural," Ren said. "Most people act a bit weird when they talk about something they're really into. As a Champion, it's expected that that 'something' is Pokémon. But anyway, Aura's Zigzagoon here . . . well, you're right. It doesn't seem to be all that strong to begin with. But there's a high level of trust there as well. It seems that it's likely mistrustful of everybody but you, which can be a plus or a minus depending on how you work it. I'd actually suggest getting it more used to other people, because I can tell it doesn't spend a lot of time outside it's Poke Ball. Start with your friends, people you trust. People like Kelsey here. That way, you should be able to take steps towards making it more confident. Confidence wins more battles than strength sometimes."

"Seriously?" Aura said as he straightened up, returning Zigzagoon to its Poke Ball. "Where did all that come from?"

Ren thought about it for a moment. "Observation," he said at length, nodding. "Have you got a marker or something?"

"Sure," she said, waving a hand impatiently in front of her face, "but how did you _do_ that?"

"I just . . . looked at Zigzagoon and made some inferences based on what I saw. It's actually remarkably easy to draw those sorts of conclusions when you look at a Pokémon."

"For you, maybe!" Aura said, handing him a permanent marker. "But that was amazing. I think I saw a guy from Unova doing something like that on TV once. You know, looking at Pokémon and talking about their bonds with their Trainers and things. He wasn't quite as, er . . . useful as you, though. It was kind of, like, a psychic thing where he told the Trainer things about their Pokémon. They were really impressed and all, but he didn't give them any advice about where to go in the future."

"There you go," Ren said, handing her back the Poke Ball and the marker. "Sorry if it's a bit messy. My signature's pretty rubbish. But could you remember the name of that programme, by any chance? It sounds interesting."

"Sorry, I can't," she said. "But thanks for the autograph! I mean, wow."

"Um . . ." Kelsey said. "C-could you, like, sign something for me, too?"

"Sure, that's fine," Ren said. _Could I . . . get used to this? Well, no, it would always be weird. But I could deal with it. These two are nice. They're just people. Why was I scared of people?_

After he signed one of Kelsey's schoolbooks, Ren made his excuses and headed on towards home, leaving Zangoose out of its Poke Ball to walk by his side. The Pokémon seemed to enjoy the fresh air, having had few enough outings in the last few days.

The rest of his walk through the city passed relatively calmly. A handful of people waved or smiled at him in the street, and he made an effort to respond in kind. It was easier than he'd thought it would be. He remembered what Bella had said to him on Saturday evening: _Your problem is that you've let what _you_ think _other_ people think about you affect what you _actually_ think about yourself._ She'd been a hundred per cent right, he realised. He'd had trouble accepting his role as a sudden celebrity because it had seemed so alien to him. He had made assumptions about how people viewed him; sure, there was a lot of truth to those assumptions, but he'd blown it way out of proportion.

Realising how foolish he'd been wasn't a good feeling. _Still, though, better to work it out now and stop being an idiot about it than carry on trying to run away from everything._

After passing through the centre of Slateport, he found himself once again in the suburbs, which soon gave way to the beach road that snaked its precarious way up towards his house. Due to the fact that the road ran roughly from north-west to south-east, he found that the morning sun was in his eyes much of the time, so he kept his head down, watching the slightly cracked road passing beneath his feet.

Once again, he found his mind involuntarily slipping back to the world of dreams. He knew that something as important as the possible end of the world as he knew it should probably be hovering at the front of his mind all day, but it seemed to float in and out of his consciousness at random. He only thought about it a couple of times a day, he realised. _Does my subconscious just not care?_ It certainly seemed that way. He knew he should be spending more time thinking about it, given its importance, but there was still a dream-like quality to it that made it hard to hold onto.

Not for the first time, Ren wondered if they really had just been dreams. Sure, they had felt real, but dreams often did. Steven – logical, level-headed Steven – had been convinced they were real, which ought to have spoken volumes in favour of them being reality, but somehow Ren found it difficult to accept. The whole concept was ridiculous, of course. Travelling to a different world in his dreams, a world occupied by magical spirits and living shadows that fought a bitter, eternal war? It sounded like a fantasy novel. It was entirely possible that the Dreamlight was simply some form of talisman that gave the wearer bizarre dreams. He had heard of such items, possessed by Ghost-type Pokémon that lived only to bring mayhem and confusion to people's dreams.

Stranger things had happened, though. There were legends from all over the world of giant Pokémon with total dominion over the elements. Even in the Hoenn region, he had heard of three legendary golems that had been sealed beneath the earth over a thousand years ago so that they would cease their destructive rampage. He didn't know how much truth there was to such stories – he had never paid much attention to supernatural myths and legends – but there was a lot of supposed evidence.

A sudden thought struck him, causing him to stop dead. Rather than such legends proving the likelihood of the world of dreams being real . . . wasn't it possible that if the world of dreams were real, the other myths could be too? Was it conceivable that the fabled giant dragon called Rayquaza, for example, actually existed? If one was possible, the other might be too. Sure, they were entirely different matters; the world of dreams seemed to exist on a separate plane – if he assumed it existed at all, which he was admittedly inclined to do – whereas the myths dealing with giant dragons and leviathans were, relatively speaking, much more mundane.

A strange feeling rose up inside him, causing him to shiver. A mixture of apprehension and excitement, heralding the possibilities that were opening up. Such legends were seeming more and more likely by the second. If an entire parallel world populated by mysterious creatures could exist, why couldn't a giant dragon? Why couldn't the myths of the Hoenn region have a basis in fact?

Something else occurred to him equally suddenly as he stood on one side of the coast road, eyes shaded against the sun with one hand. Among myths of dragons and monsters, of giant birds of thunder and enormous canines that ran on water, there were smaller, less grand tales. Stories of ghosts and spirits, of dead people unable to move on and find peace. Cecilia had told him about the spirits that had tried to cross into his world. _We end up trapped there,_ she had said, _intangible, drained of all our power and sometimes even unable to speak – what you might know as . . . ghosts._

Ghost stories were immensely popular, being made into books, movies and video games, but he had never paid them much attention. If what Cecilia had said was true, though, the ghosts that were said to haunt various secluded spots around the world might actually be real. Furthermore, they might be able to banish his doubts about the world of dreams. If he met one . . . if he could talk to one of them while wide awake and in full control of his mind, he would be convinced that everything happening in the world of dreams was actually real.

Of course, he still had the problem of how to go about talking to a ghost. If they were so open as to talk to anybody who came wandering by, all of their secrets would have been exposed years ago. All he could do was hope that they might recognise the Dreamlight.

_Did Steven ever think of this? Did he talk to ghosts?_

As he resumed walking, Ren made up his mind. He would seek out a ghost to confirm the existence of the world of dreams. He was sick of being uncertain.

Until that point, though, he would have to continue to treat the world of dreams as if it was indeed real. He couldn't afford to make any foolish mistakes.


	30. How Far We've Come

**A/N**: Happy New Year to you people who make a fuss of it. Personally, I don't, but I'm not gonna rain on your parade. So have fun! Stay safe, and don't drink too much.

As for the chapter . . . THINGS ARE HAPPENING AGAIN, OHMYGAWD. I mean, uh . . . er-hem, yes. Quite. Anyway, the last couple of chapters have kinda been break chapters, but we're back into it. Regarding the actual state of the fic, well . . . I'm getting really excited. We've hit a preliminary point of no return on the plotline, and we're starting on the slippery slope to the climax. Everything's starting to come together a bit, and things are going to speed up majorly in a short while (and by that, I could mean anywhere from ten chapters to fifty chapters. Who knows?)

I'm a little scared. I've never hit this midpoint in a story before, and I have no idea what I'm doing. Previous attempts at chaptered fanfiction have all fallen before the ten-chapter mark, and blimey, they were slow going as well. So while I'm looking forward to writing more, I'm also quite apprehensive. It's a good kind of fear, though. Tingly and electric. It makes me want to write more, because while I do have the ending planned out, there are still so many things I don't know. I want to find them out just as much as you do, if not more.

The story will keep going after Nekros' deadline, by the way. I can't promise if we'll have the same cast, or even the same universe, but the story will live on. Things might go pear-shaped, and the world might end. That's a very real possibility, but I will promise that if it does happen, something else will fill the void - something intricately connected to what's going on here. I can't say anything else without giving away shedloads of heavy-duty spoilers, so that'll have to do for now.

I love this job.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty<strong>_  
>How Far We've Come<em>

"Oh, Ren! You didn't call ahead to say you were coming back. How was the carnival?"

"It was great, Mom. A bit of trouble yesterday, but on the whole, it was fun. Have you been busy?" Ren asked, dropping his bag beside the kitchen table and sitting down himself. Zangoose clambered up onto another chair, its head poking up curiously above the table.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. I've all but finished the article for the _Mauville Mirror_. I just need to get a few words from the project supervisor out at New Mauville, but I haven't been able to get in touch with them out there . . ."

"Well, I'm going up to Mauville tomorrow for the Contest, remember? You could come with me. You know, make a day of it," he suggested. "You like watching Contests, don't you?"

"That actually does sound like a good idea, sweetie. Oh, but wait . . . I'll come up with you, but I'd probably have to skip the Contest. The construction site probably won't be open all day, and the interview might actually take a while. I'm sorry, honey."

"Oh," Ren said. "Well, we can go to a Contest some other time. They want me to start attending them relatively regularly, I think, so there'll be plenty of opportunities. I know you love them, so . . ."

"That's sweet of you, honey. I'll make sure to keep my schedule free next time."

Struck by a sudden thought, Ren stood up from the table. "Mom, can I use your computer for five minutes?"

"Sure, love. But what for?"

"Um . . . top-secret Champion stuff," he said edgily. It was close enough to the truth, anyway.

She sighed. "All right, dear. I won't ask. Just take your top-secret Champion with you."

"Huh? Oh, right." Ren quickly returned Zangoose to its Poke Ball before slipping off down the hall to his mother's office.

The computer was already running and the Vulpix net browser was open, so he quickly sat down and typed 'haunted places in hoenn' into the search bar. The first site that popped up belonged to the Hoenn Occult, Religious and Supernatural Enthusiasts' Association (or HORSEA for short). That looked promising, so Ren clicked on the site, which brought up a list of locations in Hoenn that were allegedly home to spirits, ghosts and spectres. There were dozens of them, sorted alphabetically by district, including a handful in the Slateport-Mauville area.

"Bingo," he muttered, hitting the print button. When the wireless printer on the other side of the room had spat out a copy of the web page, he closed the tab and wiped it from the browsing history. He knew he was probably being unnecessarily paranoid – after all, he could probably just say he had become interested in the supernatural lately – but he would feel more comfortable the less questions he had to answer.

He took the printout up to his room to study it in greater detail. One site in particular looked promising: the Mackenzie farm, half an hour outside of Mauville. A brief note underneath the name read _One ghost, young male. Sightings unverified and rare._

Well, that wasn't hugely promising, but it was a lead. Making sure his mother was still in the front of the house, he sneaked down to the office again and found an online map that showed the location of the Mackenzie farm, which he also printed off before deleting it from the browser's memory.

_Right_, he thought as he slipped back up to his room to peruse the map. _I can get there pretty quickly . . . but don't ghosts usually come out at night? I'll have to make some excuse to stay in Mauville until Friday._

Looking at the situation objectively, he knew he was being absurd. There was almost no way that the world of dreams could exist only in his imagination. Everything he had done, everything he had seen in the world of dreams was real. There was no way he could really deny that, so why did he keep trying?

_Do I even want it to be real? Or do I just want to prove to myself that it isn't so I don't have to worry? Sure, it'd be a big relief if it wasn't, but it would leave so many unanswered questions. I know it's real. I just need proof,_ he realised. He had never really been one to take things on faith, preferring to have some kind of evidence for things. He had seen plenty of 'proof' in the world of dreams itself, but he didn't trust dreams. The only things he would trust were those he could see for himself – concrete evidence.

"Says the guy looking for ghosts in haunted farmhouses," he murmured, the irony not lost on him. Either way, the plan was set. After the Contest in Mauville, he would make his excuses – invent some Champion business to avoid undue suspicion – and head out to the Mackenzie farm. He'd do his exploring, hopefully meet a ghost who could confirm what he thought he knew about the world of dreams, and then return to Mauville to take the first train home in the morning. Until then, though . . .

Ren sighed and folded up the printouts, stashing them in the bottom of his bag before kicking his legs up on the bed and lying down, hands behind his head. It was still not quite noon yet, and he had a whole afternoon to burn. He briefly considered going to visit Aunt Mabel like Cole had asked him too, but something in the back of his mind faintly reminded him that Wednesday was her shopping day. She'd be out all afternoon; he'd have to go when he got back on Friday.

He looked around his room, a slight frown creasing his forehead. It was still as bare as it had been when he had arrived on Friday. He'd have to refurnish it, and maybe even redecorate. A few posters on the wall, at the very least, would not go amiss.

Somehow, though, he really didn't feel like being proactive about anything. The previous day's action had worn him out more than he'd expected. On top of that, there was the sense of general fatigue that he had been feeling ever since his first night in the world of dreams. That was a little worrying in itself; had Steven ever experienced it?

_I haven't talked to Steven since Sunday morning. _Several times in the intervening couple of days, Ren had considered calling Steven to talk about what was going on, but something held him back. Was it stubbornness? Certainly, he wanted to prove he could deal with it by himself – without having to rely on anybody else. _What kind of yehktira would I be if I couldn't do it on my own?_

_Listen to me. It's almost like I _want_ to be saddled with this._

_Do I? Don't I?_

In the end, Ren stood with a sigh and, pushing all thoughts of potentially world-changing responsibility from his mind, left the house again, leaving his mother reading a book in the living room.

On the road, he let all six of his Pokémon out; they all seemed somewhat confused, looking at him expectantly.

"Nothing big today, guys," he said. "We're just going for a walk." He set off down the coast road at a leisurely pace, his baffled Pokémon following just behind him. Yanmega and Braviary rode on Camerupt's broad, cratered back; they would have outpaced him otherwise.

The weather was starting to take a turn for the worse, though the conditions were still far from adverse. Clouds were gathering in the sky, and the sea breeze was picking up. The sun still shone brightly, though – it was almost directly overhead now – so Ren felt comfortable taking a brief trip outside.

After a while, the coast road gave way to Seaboard Avenue. There was no apparent change in the road itself, other than an old wooden sign leaning against the cliff, and Ren carried on walking, ignoring the confused protests of his Pokémon.

Just as the road began twisting back towards the north a little, a familiar crack opened in the cliff face to his left, revealing a large space encased by rock walls: the same park he had visited with his mother just a few days earlier. It was dim inside the space, as the sun's angle wasn't quite right at that time of day.

Ren went ahead and stepped into the park anyway, sitting down on the same swing as he had the other day – and that following night, in his dreams. He watched his Pokémon array themselves in a rough semicircle in front of him, watching him with confused, worried eyes.

"How many times in the last few days have I told myself I'm going to stop this?" he asked. "I really need to quit being so mopey about everything."

Zangoose cocked its head, hissing quizzically.

"You're right," Ren said. "I haven't told you guys about any of this, have I? That's . . . that's bad of me. I'm sorry. I should have let you in on this earlier. After all, if I can trust anybody with this – which I can't, really – I can trust you."

He took a deep breath in before sliding off the swing to sit cross-legged on the ground in front of his Pokémon. There was nobody else in the park; while the council had never gotten around to actually closing it off, the common opinion in the neighbourhood was that the park's location – sandwiched into a crack in the cliffside, with high, natural rock walls on either side of the narrow space – made it dangerous. They were probably right, Ren had to concede. In all the times he'd visited the park, though – whether with his cousins, his mother or by himself – he had never seen s much as a pebble drop from the rock walls, much less an avalanche of the kind so feared by most of the locals.

So he had carried on visiting the park. Even now, five years later, it almost looked as if nobody had touched it since he had left. Deserted as the park was, he felt safe to talk out loud for the first time. He told his Pokémon about everything that had transpired since Steven had called him to Rustboro, leaving nothing out. They just watched him silently, not judging or criticising him. They simply listened, and as he talked, Ren felt himself relaxing. The tension evaporated from his body, and he slumped a little even as he spoke, his shoulders dropping. He hadn't even realised how tightly wound he was, but the letting out all the words that had been held inside him over the last few days was a strangely cathartic experience.

It took a good half-hour to summarise everything that had transpired since Saturday morning, and he felt immensely better by the time he had finished. He had given up on sitting halfway through, shifting instead to lie on his back with his feet under the swings. He felt the bark pressing into his legs and the long grass tickling his face, but he ignored them. The sweet scent of the earth was so distracting that he almost lost his place in the narrative several times.

When he finished, he lay silently for a good five minutes, during which period there was not a movement or a sound made by any of them. He took several deep breaths, feeling the fulfilling shiver running down his spine after each with a sense of immense satisfaction. Telling it like a story hadn't made the whole thing any less real, like he had feared – or was it hoped? It had made it more real. By bringing it out into the tangible, physical world, he had caused it to draw closer than ever to it.

At length, Zangoose stepped forward, looming over him as he lay in the grass. The Pokémon seemed uncomfortable with the situation, its tail and ears twitching in agitation, but it stepped forward and sat down next to Ren, leaning against his left side in unspoken solidarity. Its warm body vibrated slightly as it breathed in and out, and Ren reached down with a smile to stroke its head. The Pokémon would normally have protested at such a weak gesture of familiarity, but it just pressed itself a little closer to him.

With a slight tingle of static electricity, he felt Manectric curl itself up at his right, its quick blue eyes watching him intently. He felt something bump at his head, and he looked back to see Camerupt nosing him gently. Ren sat up at the Ground-type's insistence, only for it to make a quarter turn and sit down exactly where he had been lying. Shaking his head in faint amusement, he sat back, leaning on Camerupt's enormous, warm flank. Yanmega buzzed over to rest in his lap, and Braviary hopped its way in next to Zangoose, bumping its head against Ren's shoulder. Solrock floated in front of him, its large, sorrowful eyes regarding him balefully. He lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles across its rough, rocky skin.

"Thanks, guys," he said frankly. Nothing else needed to be said, he realised. With a slow exhalation of breath, he tilted his head back to rest on Camerupt's side. He almost felt as if he could have drifted off to sleep right then and there, but he didn't. It would have been rude, he felt.

So instead, he just sat there, his back warmed by the fire in Camerupt's belly as the clouds overhead drew closer.

That night, he dreamed of rain.

_Afro Glameow hisses miserably, its springy hairdo slightly bedraggled in the persistent rain that sweeps the dark street, filling Ren's ears with the sussurous sound of gently falling water on pavement. The only visible light comes from a very old-fashioned lamp post on the corner a few metres away, and it is towards this that Ren and Afro Glameow hurry from opposite directions._

_Ren pulls his trench coat tighter around him against the inclement weather, tugging his low, wide-brimmed hat further down over his eyes with his free hand._

"_Do you have the package?" he asks when they meet beneath the light, the flickering lantern in its glass box casting a pallid glow over the unlikely pair. He has no idea what package he is talking about, and clearly Afro Glameow is just as unaware, for it just mews at him accusingly and produces a wide-brimmed hat identical to Ren's from . . . well, somewhere, slapping it onto its head with a casual paw._

"_Fine, I'll grab someone else's package," Ren grumbles. "Where's the portal, then?"_

_Afro Glameow turns and struts away, tightly wound tail bobbing self-importantly._

_Ren rolls his eyes. "Fine," he says, before turning around and reaching out to touch the portal._

He found himself standing on the stage in the middle of the Fortree square. Bunting still flapped in the breeze, but every other sign of life had entirely vanished. None of the loud, colourful festival-goers that had been milling around earlier were present, and their absence made the whole area feel very dead and cold. There were no bird Pokémon in the sky, and the absence of chaotic, raucous noise made the square a much less welcoming place. He was alone, save for one other.

"Cicero," Ren said, smiling with genuine pleasure to see the Tactical General. "It's good to see you."

Cicero adjusted his toga slightly, making a somewhat half-hearted effort to return the smile. "Yes, _yehktira_. It is good to see you also. However, I do bring bad news."

"What? What's happening in the third ring?" Ren asked urgently. "Did Nekros-"

"Not Nekros," Cicero said, a regretful grimace on his face. "Miss Darkstorm."

Ren threw his hands up in the air with an impatient growl. "You're kidding! You mean they're not letting me in tonight, either? What's the deal with that? What reason did she give?"

"She did not give one, I'm afraid. I'm far too low-ranked to be party to such sensitive information."

Ren narrowed his eyes. "That was sarcasm, wasn't it?"

Cicero sighed, shrugging. "I'm afraid not. While in the field of battle, I am a General, but in a non-martial situation I'm no more important than anyone else."

Ren shook his head in disgust. _What kind of stupid bureaucracy is this? _he raged silently.

"Ren!" Cicero said suddenly, a sharp edge entering his voice. "_Iehkti'na_!"

"What? Where?" Ren asked, frowning as he scanned the noticeably empty area, rotating a full three hundred and sixty degrees before turning back to face Cicero . . . who was no longer there.

Ren blinked. The Tactical General had vanished without a trace in the time it had taken Ren to turn around. He scanned the area again, abruptly on high alert. "This isn't funny, Cicero," he grumbled.

There was no reply. Ren was alone in Fortree. _Where in Arceus' name did he go? For that matter, what am I supposed to do now?_ If Cicero had been telling the truth about seeing an _Iehkti'na_, he couldn't risk returning to the first ring through the barely-visible portal that was hovering in the air behind him. On top of that, he didn't know whether the Soul Bonds were completely fixed yet. Going home now could ruin everything. That meant he had to stay in the second ring with a disappearing General and an _Iehkti'na_ that might or might not exist.

"Bloody wonderful," he snapped, continuing to scan the area. He figured that staying on the stage would be his best bet; it was central, open and highly visible. Actually, that was a double-edged sword. He would be extremely vulnerable, but at the same time it would be nearly impossible to sneak up on him.

Surely.

Something snapped inside Ren's mind, a painless jolt of electricity that made him blink in surprise. Without even knowing what he was doing or why he was doing it, he threw himself to the ground. He landed awkwardly on one shoulder, but the pain was instantly forgotten as he saw a scythe of pure shadows slice through the air where his head had been just a split second earlier.

He forced himself to roll into a crouch, facing his assailant warily. It was an _Iehkti'na_ all right, and it seemed awfully pissed that its intended prey had avoided it. The beast was a clear metre taller than Ren, and its inky black body – although humanoid in form – was covered in jagged edges and blades that wavered in the weak sunlight. Its dominant features, however, were the lethal-looking blades that protruded from its shoulders in place of arms. They were easily two metres long, and appeared somewhat flexible as their wielder whipped them back and forth, though he didn't think that would make them any less deadly.

The blades whistled perniciously as they swung through the air.

Ren's brow furrowed in concentration as he began to back slowly away, eyes fixed on the _Iehkti'na_. When he moved, though, it jerked forwards suddenly as if to attack again; when he stopped, so did his opponent.

"Okaaaay," Ren said slowly, confused. What was it waiting for? _Iehkti'na _usually attacked all-out rather than bobbing back and forth like this one was doing. For that matter, it shouldn't have even been attacking him at all. Nekros had promised, hadn't he?

_although they listen to us for the most part we sometimes cannot prevent them from running wild a little_

Nekros' words returned to him in a sickening flash of memory. _Oh. Right. _So this _Iehkti'na _was probably acting on its own instinct. After all, it wouldn't make any sense for Nekros to send an assassin after the one person holding the worlds together.

"You're a rogue, aren't you?" Ren challenged it. "You're not doing what you were told."

The _Iehkti'na _regarded him coldly, its blue-fire eyes expressionless.

"Go back to the third ring," he said, not even sure if the beast could do that. "If you kill me, everyone dies. _Everyone_. You don't want that, do you?"

Evidently tired of this puny human trying to talk to it, the _Iehkti'na_ leapt forward, blades whipping out towards Ren.

"Evidently you do!" Ren yelped as he leapt backwards, avoiding the creature's slicing attacks by pure instinct as it forced him backwards across the stage.

The blades slashed at the stage itself as the _Iehkti'na_ pressed its advantage, causing solid wooden boards to split like butter beneath Ren's feet while he stumbled backwards.

Ren swore loudly as he continued to back away quickly, almost tripping several times. His opponent was moving fast, but not quite as swiftly as the initial attack that he had barely evaded. _Why? Is it toying with me?_

Suddenly, one of the _Iehkti'na's_ blades shot straight forward, headed directly for his chest. With speed he didn't realise he possessed, Ren jinked to one side, but the slicing dagger of darkness tore his shirt and scored a cut across his shoulder, sending a sharp twinge of pain through him. He clapped his other hand to the cut, even as he continued to retreat from the furious attack. The wound was wet with blood, and his hand came away daubed red.

As the beast's blades whipped through the air around him, writhing like deadly black ribbons, he felt the ground beneath his feet drop away. He was tumbling backwards, losing his footing as he pitched backwards over the side of the stage.

_I should have seen this coming_, he thought regretfully in the split second before he hit the ground.

The stage wasn't high, but it was high enough. The back of his head hit the hard-packed dirt with a painful _crack_, and his vision swam. With unfocused eyes, he saw his opponent looming over him, crouched on the edge of the stage like some enormous, predatory insect.

Sitting up caused him enough pain to elicit an audible groan, to which the _Iehkti'na_ reacted with apparent pleasure, its spines and sharp edges making a disconcerting clicking noise as it swayed gently from side to side. Suddenly, it bent at the knees – the wrong way, Ren noted – and sprang down towards him, both blades outstretched.

Ren knew what to do without being told. His body moving almost of its own volition, he rolled forwards, toward the edge of the stage. The _Iehkti'na's_ blades dug into the earth where his head had been a moment ago.

Ren struggled to his feet, his head complaining even more thanks to the awkward manouevre. Before the _Iehkti'na_ could react, he brought up his leg and kicked it solidly in the back with a metallic _clunk_. It stumbled, caught off balance, and Ren ran for it, dashing west as fast as his legs could carry him. Running wouldn't solve anything, but the more distance he could put between him and the nightmare, the longer he would have to think of a solution.

Unfortunately, his opponent wasn't nearly as disoriented as he had hoped it would be. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that the _Iehkti'na_ was after him again, moving with a lithe speed that belied its spiny bulk. Its two blades were hanging freely behind it, seeming to flutter like macabre streamers in the wind generated by its passing. It was only a few metres behind him, and gaining fast.

Desperately, Ren threw himself sideways, between two empty stalls. He noticed a loose wooden stake lying on the ground – perhaps left over from the hasty construction job – and he snatched it up as he passed, now navigating carefully and quickly between dozens of booths and stalls.

The _Iehkti'na_, however, was having none of it. It charged along behind him, laying waste to everything in its way. Its blades whipped out in all directions, slicing flimsy wooden stalls to shreds; whatever didn't get destroyed in this way was simply trampled and smashed by the nightmare's spiny body. Whichever way Ren turned in the labyrinth of stalls, it made a destructive beeline for him.

He clutched the stake tightly in his hands, ignoring the splinters. It might be his only chance of survival if it caught up to him. The wound on his shoulder wasn't hurting – the adrenaline would be seeing to that, he supposed – but his right arm was feeling slightly less responsive than usual. His breathing seemed constricted, and he was beginning to stumble over things as he ran.

Making a split-second decision, he adjusted his course once again, heading for the edge of the square.

The nightmare followed, the hellfire in its eyes burning brightly.


	31. Coruscation

**A/N**: Not much to say, other than that the sheer size of this fic means I'll probably have to start saving chapters in separate documents before I upload them. I usually upload the whole file and then cut out everything but the chapter I'm posting (it's less messy that way) but it almost crashed Firefox this time. Went all Not Responding on me for a good thirty seconds. n_n

Anyway, I haven't finished Chapter 33 yet (barely started it, tbqh). I intended to stay two chapters ahead, but it just wasn't gonna happen. So here we are. Have fun! I know people wanted to know what was going to happen with the _Iehkti'na_.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-One<strong>

_Coruscation_

The edge of the square approached quickly, and then Ren was through, out into Fortree City proper. He recognised the path. It was the same one he'd taken the previous afternoon while chasing the thief. Rather than turning towards the bridge, though, Ren kept going straight ahead, running dead west through the city, beneath the rope bridges and treehouses. For a brief moment, he considered climbing to escape the creature. It didn't look as if it would be able to manoeuvre through the treetops very well. On the offchance that it could, though . . . he shuddered at a mental image of the _Iehkti'na_ slashing a rope bridge to shreds while he was still on it, leaving him to tumble to a painful death several metres below.

No, he would stay on the ground. It offered him a marginally higher chance of survival, and he'd take the best odds he could get.

At the moment, though, none of his odds looked particularly good. The creature was gaining on him; he could hear its feet pounding just behind him. Any second, it would be close enough to start using its blades again.

A flash of white between the trees, far ahead. Ren wasn't even sure if he'd even seen it, but if he really had, its identity was unmistakeable. _Cicero_. Not even sure what he was doing, Ren changed his course slightly, heading directly towards where he'd seen the splash of white. It was no longer visible, but he had to believe it had been there. If it wasn't, his chances of survival were practically zero. He was still holding the wooden stake, but it wasn't going to be much use.

Another soundless _snap_ echoed inside his mind, and he ducked awkwardly, one of the _Iehkti'na's_ ribbonlike blades shearing through the air above his head. Losing his balance, Ren tumbled forward, hitting the ground awkwardly. _Is there a painless way to fall over?_ he wondered idly as three tiny, sharp blurs whirred over his head and buried themselves in the _Iehkti'na's_ torso.

The beast stopped in its tracks, blades flicking agitatedly out to either side. Ren quickly rolled back onto his feet and faced his opponent, wooden stake held at the ready. Three feathered shafts protruded from its chest, though it didn't seem heavily impeded. It had stopped, though, which was something.

Movement in the corner of Ren's eye alerted him to Cicero's appearance. The spirit had produced a bow from somewhere, which had a further three arrows nocked to it at once. The weapon was trained carefully on the _Iehkti'na_. "Sorry about the delay, Ren. You're not hurt, are you?"

"Not too badly, I think," Ren said, eyeing the nightmare warily. It remained still, eyeing Cicero's weapon with suspicious eyes. _Why isn't he shooting?_

"Step back a little, _yehktira_," Cicero said, a note of command in his voice that compelled Ren to obey. As son as Ren was standing beside him, the Tactical General loosed his three arrows, which all flew true and buried themselves in the _Iehkti'na's _chest.

One blade flashed down in front of the nightmare's body, slicing the six arrows embedded in its trunk in two, leaving only small, barely visible splinters sticking out. It rolled its neck menacingly and shifted its footing, but it still didn't move.

"This is an extraordinarily strange _Iehkti'na_," Cicero noted with a frown, producing another two arrows from somewhere and nocking them with a swift, practiced motion.

"Tell me about it," Ren said, backing a little further away. "Where did you go, anyway?"

"It . . . it caught me by surprise when you turned around. It grabbed me and brought me out here, then dumped me and dashed off again – I presume to attack you."

"Great," Ren said. "It's smart enough to know who it wants to kill, but not smart enough to realise that doing so will basically end the entire world."

"In a nutshell," Cicero agreed, backing away with Ren, his bow still trained on the nightmare.

"Any ideas on how to kill it?" Ren asked, his tone almost conversational.

"The arrows I just sunk into it are equipped with special arrowheads crafted by Maho's experts in the Second Division," Cicero said. "They're supposed to make it sluggish and clumsy so that it can be finished off more easily."

_That must be why it stopped moving. _"So they won't kill it?"

"Not at all. I'm afraid that will have to be your job, Ren. I'm no good with anything but this bow, and it just won't work against something this large and powerful."

"And you think I'll have any better luck?"

"By definition, yes. Other than this bow, I've never had cause to lift a weapon myself."

"Well, I've only used one once!" Ren protested.

"Still more than me," Cicero said. "Now hurry up. It won't stay stunned forever."

Ren swore and advanced carefully on the _Iehkti'na. _As he approached, the blades attached to its shoulders sprang to life, whipping back and forward directly in front of the nightmare in a deadly maelstrom. The creature itself still didn't move, but it had made itself untouchable.

Slowly, Ren advanced as close as he dared. Could he lure it into attacking him?

Eyes suddenly widening, Ren ducked to one side a split second before one of the nightmare's blades lashed out towards him, missing by an inch. It kept up its assault, however, jabbing and slashing at him with one of its blades while still defending itself with the other. The whole time, it remained standing still.

Ren ducked and weaved back and forward, seeing every slash just as it came at him, dodging desperately as he tried to get closer to his opponent. "There's . . . no . . . opening!" he grunted as he backpedalled slightly, waving his stake in front of him in what he hoped was a threatening manner.

"You have to make one!" Cicero said, loosing another two arrows that flew past Ren's head and thudded into the _Iehkti'na's_ neck, slowing its movements a little more.

"Can't you just keep shooting it until it stops completely?" Ren asked over his shoulder as he made a few feints with his makeshift weapon.

"I'm all out! Those were my last two. All I have left are regular arrows, and they're going to do even less damage!"

"Great," Ren grumbled. Still, the last two arrows had slowed his foe's movements to a point where he might just be able to get in a hit. He moved in close again, feeling slightly more confident. The stabs and slashes aimed at him were slower now, and he could dodge them fairly easily.

It was only using the blade on his right to attack, he noticed. The one on Ren's left was still rippling back and forth in front of the creature's torso, preventing him from attacking it directly.

Suddenly, everything seemed to line up. He feinted right, causing the active blade to lash out in response. Before it had even moved, though, he was going left; the _Iehkti'na_ was forced to use its other blade to intercept the stake-

-which wasn't there any more. Pulling it back a second time, Ren slammed the sharp, splintered end of the wooden bar into the centre of his opponent's undefended chest. It pierced the shadowy body without a sound, though there was plenty of resistance.

Even as the _Iehkti'na _brought its blades back around to slice at Ren, he threw his shoulder forwards, slamming the stake further into the nightmare's body. They both went toppling to the ground, and the _Iehkti'na _screamed.

Ren shuddered as he rolled off it, pulling the stake out as he did so. The scream was just as it had been the last time he had seen a nightmare die: almost silent, yet somehow unbearably all-consuming in its pure, primordial horror.

Almost pitying the writhing creature on the ground below him, Ren lifted the stake once more and slammed it into the _Iehkti'na's _head with a satisfying – yet sickening – _crunch_. The noise stopped immediately as the spiny, angular body of the nightmare hissed and bubbled, melting away into the ground until the only sign of its existence was a faint black stain on Ren's improvised weapon.

Breathing heavily and shakily, Ren let his legs give out as they had been begging to do for the last five minutes. As he knelt uncomfortably on the ground, he felt Cicero clap a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" the spirit asked, his voice soft. "That was quite a feat."

"Speaking of feet, I can't feel mine," Ren groaned, allowing himself to collapse even further to the ground, until he was lying flat on his back, still breathing deeply. His whole body stung. His head was still sore from where he'd smacked it on the ground, and his shoulder was bleeding. There were numerous other cuts all over his body, he noticed. The _Iehkti'na _must have gotten lucky a few more times than he'd thought.

"You did well, Ren," Cicero said. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help. We of the Tactical Division have limited usefulness in combat."

Ren was too exhausted to answer properly, opting instead to give Cicero a half-hearted moan. He was even more bruised and battered than he'd originally thought.

"I understand," Cicero said with a nod. "You can probably go home safely now. There don't appear to be any more _Iehkti'na _around, and the Soul Bonds are back to full strength. Well . . . as close as they're going to get. Oh, for the days when the _yehktira_ was only needed once in his natural lifetime! Not that I don't enjoy your company, my boy – I really do – but it really places an enormous strain on our resources, and on you. And with Ragnarok just around the corner . . ." He sighed deeply, then bent down and offered Ren his arm.

Ren took it gratefully, allowing himself to be hauled onto his feet; Cicero possessed a surprising amount of strength for someone who professed to be a noncombatant. With Cicero's support, he staggered back through Fortree to the square and up onto the stage.

_I'm a mess_, he realised with a shock as he glanced down at himself. His clothes were tattered and stained red like some kind of Hallowe'en costume; there was blood leaking from dozens of cuts and gouges across his body. He was surprised he'd managed to stay standing for so long, let alone run as fast as he had. Adrenaline was supposed to numb pain in tense situations, he remembered. Once the immediate danger had passed, his body had woken up.

"You'll be all right when you come back tomorrow night, for sure," Cicero reassured him. "It might hurt now, but injuries you sustain in this world _should_ disappear over the course of the day."

"'Should'?" Ren repeated skeptically. "How sure are you?"

"Not terribly," Cicero admitted as he steered Ren towards the portal. "I think this is the worst injury a _yehktira_ has received under our protection. I'm awfully sorry, Ren."

"It's okay," Ren said tiredly. "You did all you could, I guess. Well, I hope all this fixes itself by tomorrow night, or I won't be able to stand up. Thanks, Cicero. You saved me, regardless of how much I got beaten up."

"You can thank Maho's mages for that," Cicero said. "I need to carry more of those stun arrows around."

The bow had vanished into thin air at some point, Ren noticed, and Cicero hadn't been carrying it when he'd greeted him. Did he carry it around in some kind of pocket dimension, or was the weapon itself magical? "They certainly are useful. All right, General. I'd better get on home now."

With that, he reached out and touched the portal, allowing it to suck his tired, beaten body back through to the first ring. The last thing he saw before the blackness swallowed him was Cicero, a hand raised in farewell.

_Afro Glameow bumps him worriedly with its nose as Ren sits up in the unfamiliar bed, groaning. He glances down at himself; he is wound-free. Why wouldn't he be?_

"_I'm fine," he says. "But thanks for-"_

_Before he can say anything else, the world disappears._

Ren awoke with a start. The sun was shining, but for once it only bled through a crack in the curtains, rather than slamming into his room through the uncovered window. Judging by the angle of the light, it was a little earlier than normal, too. Clearly his mother hadn't come in to wake him up yet. So what had roused him? There appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary in the room. His bag lay on the floor in the corner, and his Poké Balls were still sitting on the headboard.

Struck by a sudden, sickening realisation, Ren practically tumbled out of bed in his hurry. Pulling himself to his feet, he examined his body. No scars, no cuts, no bruises. He was clean.

Ren breathed a sigh of relief, even though he knew how ridiculous the idea was. There was no way injuries from the world of dreams could be translated to his real body.

_Putting that aside for the moment . . . last night was definitely weird_. Nothing had gone the way it was supposed to, right from the very beginning. Supposedly, Maho was to have delivered his note to the council after the previous evening. Had he even passed the message on? Or if he had, had the council just dismissed it as the pointless ramblings of a human?

That was all he was to them, he knew. _Yehktira _or not, he was still an annoyance and a burden. Elly was a particularly brazen case, but he had seen it in all of their eyes. Even Cecilia – sweet, playful Cecilia – had betrayed a hint of anger when he had returned from his joyride with Shadecolour two nights ago. The memory of that moment – stepping off Shadecolour's back and seeing the council waiting for him – was still clear in his mind, and in hindsight the betrayal in their eyes was impossible to miss.

Why hadn't he considered how the spirits might feel? He had been envisioning himself as some kind of hero, the first person to bridge the gap between the two groups. He had imagined himself carrying the _Iehkti'na's _message and convincing the spirits to take a peaceful course of action. The picture in his mind's eye had been of unity and an end to the war that had raged for centuries; the reality, it seemed, was much colder.

The spirits hadn't seen him negotiating with the other side and returning with a compromise. They had seen him talking with their enemies, appearing to enjoy their company, and returning to offer them an impossible choice between death and eternal disgrace.

For that is what it would be, he realised now. If the spirits sat quietly by and let the _Iehkti'na_ return home, many lives would be spared, yes. But they would still have lost. The war they had fought for seven hundred years would have come to an end with them stepping aside and letting their enemies have their way. It would be an intolerable loss of face.

_Even so_, Ren thought grimly, _I have to convince them to do it. I'm not going to let them all be slaughtered for the sake of their pride._ Still, he would make sure to do so with a little more sensitivity than he had been using thus far.

Somehow, the night's events made his misgivings of the previous day seem pointless and petty. Could he really doubt the existence of something that carried such weight? There was almost no chance that he had simply been dreaming the whole experience, but something continued to bother him. He would still go out to the Mackenzie farm that evening to look for its ghost, he decided. He had to put it beyond doubt.

And he still had to work out how to convince the council of elders to accede to Nekros' demand.

After breakfast, Ren and his mother walked down to Slateport to catch the train bound for Mauville. The clouds that had been gathering the previous day appeared to have emptied themselves overnight and drifted away.

Unlike the last time Ren had caught a train from the inappropriately-named Slateport Central, he managed to get on board without incident.

"Oh, look!" his mother exclaimed, examining a map on the inside wall of the train. "They put a stop in near New Mauville."

"You're going to get off a stop early?" Ren asked, leaning across to check the timetable. "That's pretty convenient for you."

"I guess so," she said, sitting down as the train began to move. "So I'll meet you in town after the Contest?"

"Actually . . . about that," Ren said, sensing an opportunity. "I, uh, got a call from Mr. Etois last night. He says that he wants me to do another interview or two in Mauville tonight, so I'm going to have to stay overnight. Once you're done with your work at New Mauville, you might as well go on home. I'll come back tomorrow morning."

"Really? That's awfully sudden, sweetie."

"Well, uh . . . you know how Etois is. Things happen without any warning!" Ren said, chuckling. _Arceus, I'm a terrible liar._

"What's the interview for? TV? Radio?"

"Uh, radio, I think. I forget the name of the station, but he said he'd call again to let me know where I need to go," Ren fabricated quickly, not having prepared for such a question.

"If you say so, dear. I do wish he'd give you a bit more notice of things like this, but I guess that's how things have to be."

"R-right you are," Ren said, nodding. Lying to his own mother was hardly what he would call a good feeling, but it was essentially harmless.

He sat back and looked out of the window as the train left the city, clacking comfortably along the rails towards Mauville.

After his mother had got off at New Mauville, Ren managed to relax. Everything would work out, he was sure of it. _I _have_ to be sure of it_, Ren thought. _I can't afford to get cold feet here._

Even so, he couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive. Was he really going to go hunting for ghosts in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of the night? _Yes. Yes, I am. Because I have to get to the bottom of this._

Maybe the ghost – if it even existed – would be able to tell him things about the world of dreams that the spirits couldn't or wouldn't. He still didn't know how the world of dreams had come into existence; from what Maho's journals had said, it was only seven hundred years old, which of course raised the issue of what had existed before it, if anything. There were numerous technical issues to consider as well: how had anybody ever dreamed before the first ring existed? For that matter, how had the world of dreams even come into existence anyway? Maho's notes indicated that a human or group of humans was responsible, but the spirits appeared not to know who or why.

_Conundrum after conundrum_, he mused. _Before I can give any thought to that, though, I have a Contest to attend to. I can't afford to be busy thinking about something else through the whole thing._

As the train slowed down and finally came to a halt in Mauville Central, Ren forced all thoughts of the world of dreams temporarily out of his mind. _I have to appear one hundred per cent focused,_ he resolved. _I've got to keep up the act as if nothing's wrong, or people might get suspicious._

Mauville Central was a lot bigger than Slateport's transport hub, and there were a huge number of people milling around. Trains whistled, tracks clacked and people shouted, and the air was full of the smell of steel. Considering the time of day, Ren shuddered to think what the station must be like at rush hour. Even now he was jostled, bumped and swept along with the crowd, feeling like a stick tossed in a raging current.

Eventually, he managed to find a brief respite in the form of a large green board that the crowd split left and right in order to pass. He leaned against it thankfully, keeping his head down in case he was recognised. He wasn't sure if he could deal with being recognised in such a crowded place; he might get crushed.

_I have to get to the Contest Hall, but where is that?_ Uncomfortably, Ren realised that he hadn't even bothered to check on the Contest Hall's location prior to coming to Mauville. He had a vague impression that it was on the south side of the city, but that wasn't particulary helpful given Mauville's size. He considered ringing Etois for directions, but he felt like that would be admitting to some kind of blunder. No, there had to be an information desk or something in the area.

"Oh, right," he murmured as the board beside him caught his eye. "A map of Mauville. How handy!" The large green board was, in fact, a simplified map of the city, showing most of the main roads and littered with numbers. A key at the bottom explained what each of the numbers represented, ranging from post offices to sports venues to shopping centres.

"Come on, the Contest Hall's gotta be on here somewhere," he muttered, running a finger down the list. He was interrupted, however, by a tap on the shoulder. He spun around, confused.

"Hey, are you lost?" The speaker was a boy who looked to be a little older than Ren, with floppy, bleached-blonde hair and slightly tanned skin. "Need a hand?"

"Uh, kinda?" Ren said. "I'm looking for the Contest Hall. Would you happen to know where that is?"

The boy winked. "Gotcha. I'm going there now, actually. Come with?"

"Really? If you don't mind, then thanks!" Ren said, relieved.

"You'll be going to today's Contest, right? We'd better hurry, then. It starts in half an hour! Hey, come on. We've got to get a bus over here!" He grabbed Ren's wrist and pulled him back into the crowd, slipping and dashing between the bustling commuters.

Ren did his best to keep up – not that he had a choice with the boy grasping his wrist. They broke out of the crowd at the entrance to the station and dashed towards a large green bus that was idling at the curb. The boy jumped up into the bus and, letting go of Ren's arm, pulled out a Trainer's license and scanned it on a small machine next to the driver. It beeped an affirmative, and the driver waved him through.

Slightly uncertain, Ren dug out his own license and passed it by the scanner, which beeped. The driver nodded and waved him onwards. Ren found a seat next to his rescuer.

"You have no idea what you're doing, do you?" the boy said. It wasn't really a question.

"Not a clue," Ren said, shrugging. "I was kind of expecting just to wing it. I forgot how big Mauville was."

"The public transport system is a nightmare. Unless you're going somewhere you've been a million times before, you have to plan your trip extensively if you want to get there on time. Unless, of course, you don't mind taking a couple of hours to get where you're going."

"Last time I was here, I wasn't in so much of a hurry," Ren said apologetically. "I just got where I was going when I got there. I didn't realise the Contest started so early. Wasn't it going to start at noon or something? It's only ten."

"They changed it at the last minute," the boy grumbled. "Something about scheduling clashes. I think there's meant to be a performance of some kind on this afternoon, and they had to push the Contest back to make room for it. Beats me as to why they didn't work that out earlier."

"I see," Ren said slowly as the bus pulled away from the footpath, diving headlong into the sea of traffic. "Are you a Trainer? I saw your license when you got onboard."

"Well, kind of," the boy said. "I'm a Coordinator, actually. I find it much more interesting than 'proper' battling. No offense if you're a Trainer, of course! I just think it's more fun."

Something clicked in Ren's head. _That's why he didn't seem to recognise me. He probably didn't even watch the League Conference._ "I am a Trainer, but that's all right. I get what you mean. I never really got that much into Contests, so we're square."

"You're going to one now, though!" the boy chuckled. "Change of heart?"

"Uh . . . a friend recommended I go," Ren said. "Thought I might learn something new, so I came along."

"Fantastic! I'll be taking part in the Contest today, so keep an eye out for me! I'll show you a few things!"

Ren grinned. "I'm counting on it. Maybe later we can battle, and I'll show you some of _my_ tricks."

"Sounds good to me, man. Oh, I'm Arnold, by the way. It's a name to watch out for. What's your name?"

"Me? I'm Ren."

Arnold wrinkled his nose. "That's an odd name. Is it foreign?"

"Uh . . . no," Ren said.

"Oh, no offense!" Arnold said, waving his hands hastily. "I just thought it was unusual."

"I'm named after my grandmother, actually," Ren said. "Her name was Lauren, and she died a few months before I was born. Mom decided to name me after her, but I think she got a bit stuck when I turned out to be a guy . . . so Ren it is." He shrugged.

"You must have had to explain that a few times," Arnold said with a laugh.

"I didn't realise it at the time, but I went through the entirety of primary school as W-R-E-N because my teacher in first grade made an assumption about the spelling. But yeah, I've had a few people ask about it."

"So, R-E-N," Arnold said. "You looking forward to the Contest?"

"I guess?" Ren said uncertainly. "Like I say, I've never been to one before."

"If that's the case, this is gonna blow your mind," Arnold said, grinning. "I hear there's going to be a few high-level Coordinators there today, including at least one who placed in last year's Grand Festival."

"That's like the Contest version of the Ever Grande Conference, right?" Ren asked, frowning.

"Yep, pretty much. Oh, this is our stop! Come on, we have to leg it from here!" He yanked on the cord hanging over the dusty window, and the bus began to slow down. He urged Ren out of his seat and up to the front of the bus. When the vehicle stopped and the doors opened, they jumped off.

"The Contest Hall's just a few blocks this way," Arnold said, jogging along the footpath.

They seemed to be on the outskirts of the city's central business district, Ren noticed as he followed quickly. Most of the high-rise buildings were behind them, but the streets were still lined with businesses – mostly small ones in one- or two-storey buildings. Mauville's streets were a lot more crowded than Slateport's, too, and Ren had to dodge ungracefully between pedestrians to keep up with Arnold.

_If I'm late for the Contest, Etois will kill me_, he reflected uncomfortably.

"Here we are!" Arnold said suddenly, coming to a sudden halt and throwing out his arm theatrically to indicate the building to their left.

Ren turned to look, and he could have sworn he heard his jaw hit the ground.


	32. The Gods Wait to Delight In You

**A/N**: I have got SO little writing done over this summer break, but I don't mind. It gave me time to read and chill like I'm meant to. I'm undertaking another NaNoWriMo in February, so that'll be cool. All 50,000 words will go straight into this fic, which ought to get me a whole lot closer to the end.

Also, I've decided the point where I'm going to cut Champion Game off and start the sequel. It will happen! I was considering just keeping it all in one fic for the sake of having as big a wordcount as I could, but then I realised that was immature and irrelevant. So, yes. I don't know how many words or chapters are left for Champion Game, but I know at which point in the story I'm calling a halt. Till then, have fun! And with this, my chapter buffer disappears entirely! :D Look out for the next chapter a few days into February, I guess.

And yes, that is a Charles Bukowski reference. Does that make me a hipster?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Two<strong>

_The Gods Wait to Delight In You_

The Contest Hall was enormous. It stood in the middle of its own grassed section, surrounded by a sparsely elegant assortment of flowering trees and bushes in pink and blue. The vegetation, however, could not detract from the magnificence of the building itself. It was massive, a monolithic construction only a little smaller than a football stadium and similarly shaped. The dominant colour was a tasteful shade of pink, accentuated by pastel blue trim. Everything was curved and swooping, following the natural arc of the building. A huge bank of windows was positioned about halfway up the building, and large sliding glass doors stood open at the front. Just above the door was a large, stylised ribbon in the style of those handed out to Contest winners.

"Nice place, huh?" Arnold said slyly.

"Eh, it's all right," Ren said, shaking his head at the sheer scale of the building. He'd seen a couple of Contest Halls in his travels, of course, but this had to be the largest one he'd come across, as well as the most stunningly designed. "It's no Ever Grande Stadium, that's for sure."

"Stadiums are places of battle," Arnold said. "They are impressive, yes, but practical and earthy, just like the clashes that take place within them. A Contest Hall, though, is something supremely special. It is hallowed ground for a Coordinator, a place where beauty and power come together in a splendid explosion of magnificence!"

"Be that as it may," Ren said, "shouldn't we be going in? If it starts soon, I mean . . ."

"Ah, crap! You're right!" Arnold said, glancing at his watch. "Look, man, I gotta go. Contestants' door round the back! You should just be able to get in the front door, right? See you later!" With that, he dashed off around the side of the building, leaving Ren to join the steady trickle of people making their way into the hall.

The glass doors opened onto a sumptuously plush reception area, all soft red carpet and shining white tiles. Spectators were handing their tickets to a man in a red uniform before passing through a second door into what Ren presumed was the main staging area. Suddenly realising that he hadn't been provided with a ticket, Ren cast around with some degree of panic, wondering what he was supposed to do.

Another door caught his eye, some way to the left of the one through which everybody else was entering. There was nobody at the side door except a further pair of uniformed attendants, so he decided to try it. As he approached, though, he noticed a sign over the door: 'VIPs only – no public access'.

_Am I . . . a VIP?_ Ren wondered. The thought was strange and somewhat anathema to him, but a small part of his mind figured that if he wasn't a VIP, hardly anybody was. Slightly intimidated, Ren approached the two attendants in as confident a manner as he could manage. He was trying to think of something to say when one of them spared him the trouble of initiating the conversation.

"Hang on, kid. VIPs only through here. Are you on the list?"

"Uh . . . I don't know about any list," Ren admitted, "but I was invited, if that's what you mean."

"Really." The man looked skeptical. He produced a clipboard from somewhere and quirked an eyebrow expectantly. "Name?"

"Ren Goodwin." He pulled his Trainer's license out and showed it to them.

The other attendant finally spoke up. "He's legit, Mark. It's the Champion all right."

"Terribly sorry about that," Mark said. "Either way, though, you're still not on the list. I mean, no offense, but I have instructions not to make exceptions for anybody."

Ren sighed and tucked his license back into his pocket. This was getting ridiculous. "Figures. Is there any way I can talk to the person running the Contest? I'm afraid I don't actually know the name of the guy I'm after, since this was all organised by my people at the League." Referring to Etois and whoever else was organising things as 'my people' felt strange and a little pompous, but he went with it.

"Oh, come on, Mark," the second attendant said. "Sure, he's not on the list, but it's the damn Champion. Who's gonna blame us for letting him in?"

Mark sighed. "Fine, fine. You can go through, kid. I mean, sir. Or . . . oh, I don't know. Go on. The guy you're looking for is called Raoul Contesta. He's the director of the Contests here."

"Thanks," Ren said, ducking between the two attendants and through the door. _That was weird. Did I just take advantage of my position as Champion to gain access to somewhere I possibly shouldn't have?_

_Yes. Yes, I did_, he decided.

The VIP entrance led to a blue-carpeted hallway lined with photographs in heavy golden frames. Each photograph showed a Trainer – or Coordinator, he supposed – accompanied by one or two Pokémon. All of the Coordinators shared the same look of exuberance; he supposed they were past winners of Mauville Contests.

A pair of glass doors zipped open in front of him as he approached, granting him entrance to a luscious reception area, with comfortable-looking couches, a polished bar and a large flat-screen television on the far wall. There were only two people in the room when he entered, both of whom looked up eagerly as he entered.

"Ah! Mr. Goodwin!" said the first, a dapper-looking middle-aged man. He had neat black hair streaked with grey, and he was dressed in a cerise suit and white shirt, complete with a black bow tie. "I'm so glad you could make it, though I wasn't aware you would be coming in through the VIP entrance."

"I, uh . . . just realised that I didn't have a ticket," Ren admitted. "So I talked to the guys on the door and they let me through. Are you Raoul Contesta?"

"That's me," Contesta said. "I'm the organiser, planner, director and head judge for all the Contests that take place in the Hoenn region. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Goodwin."

"It's Ren, please," Ren said with a half-smile. He was beginning to tire of people insisting upon using his last name. "And wow, you sound like you must be really busy."

"I really am, Ren. I really am. For that matter, I have a Contest to open in . . ." He checked his watch briefly. ". . . ten minutes, and I only have two judges. Oh, Ren, I'm sorry. I've been so remiss. This is my old friend Mr. Sukizo, the president of the Hoenn Pokémon Fan Club."

The second man in the room bowed politely. He was short and slightly budgy, and he looked slightly foreign. "It's truly remarkable to make your acquaintance, Champion," he said.

"Likewise," Ren said, shaking Sukizo's hand. "But Mr. Contesta, what's this you said about only having two judges?"

"Well, we usually have three – myself, Mr. Sukizo and a guest judge – but our expected third member had to cancel unexpectedly at the last minute."

"Can't you find anybody?" Ren asked. "I think Bella Bianchi was meant to be here today. I'm sure she'd be happy to step in, wouldn't she?"

"Well, Miss Bianchi _was _our guest judge," Contesta said ruefully, scratching his head. "Unfortunately, it seems she ran into some unavoidable problem and had to reschedule."

"Ah. There goes that idea, then," Ren said.

"You could do it, couldn't you?" Contesta suggested.

"Me?" Ren said disbelievingly. "Look, I'd love it if I could help, but I know next to nothing about Pokémon Contests. All I know is what I gathered from talking to a guy on the bus over here. And frankly, I'm not that good with large crowds of people."

"We may have no choice, though," Contesta said. "We need three judges, and we can't ask just anybody. It has to be somebody experienced with Pokémon – though not necessarily with Contests."

"Are you sure?" Ren asked. "Surely you'd have to have some kind of background in Coordinating and Contests to judge one of the things."

"Ren, did you ever watch _Iron Chef_?" Contesta asked, smiling.

Ren frowned. "Now and then, but what are you getting at?"

"They had a judging panel of three that changed every week. There was usually an ex-chef or restaurant critic on the panel, but the others could come from any walk of life. They had actors, athletes, singers, journalists . . . anybody, really, so long as they had the same love for good food. They didn't have to be a chef. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

Ren sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yes, I see. I still don't like it, but . . . I don't want to ruin your show by being one judge short, so I'll do it."

"Thank you, Ren," Contesta said. "I'm so sorry to spring this on you so suddenly, but we are extremely grateful to you. Now we need to go quickly, as the Contest will begin in just a few minutes."

"Now? Really?" Ren winced as he followed Contesta and Sukizo out of the room through another door. "So could you, I dunno . . . run me through what I'm supposed to do while we're waiting?"

"No time, I'm afraid," Contesta said as they hurried down another hallway. "You'll have to pick it up as we go along. Just remember: the focus is on visual appeal and class, not practicality. You don't have to do anything too complicated or specialised. Just pass comment on each performance as it comes up. A sentence or two should do it. When it comes to making actual judging decisions, that happens offstage, so we'll be able to walk through you through it."

"Great," Ren said. "Doesn't sound too complicated at all."

Two minutes later, he found himself sitting at a table between the other two judges at the edge of a massive, sandy arena. The inside of the Contest Hall – the second biggest in the region, Sukizo had told him – was set up with raked seating in a circular formation all around the ring, except for directly behind the judges and directly opposite them, where two enormous jumbotrons were set up for the crowd's benefit. The ceiling was high and arching, made largely of glass panels that shed light on the arena. Right in the centre was an open skylight. Any shadowy spot was accounted for by powerful lights. Music played softly in the background, but it was barely audible over the excited buzz of the crowd.

The Contest Hall was packed. Ren gaped at the sheer number of people at the event. While it didn't quite match up to the crowd his League final with Steven had drawn, there were far more people present than he would have expected for such an event.

"What's the capacity on this place?" he murmured, leaning towards Contesta as the crowd continued to murmur in anticipation.

"About seven thousand. The Hall in Lilycove can fit twelve thousand, though – it's the biggest in the world."

"So you mean nearly seven thousand people found time to come and see a Pokémon Contest at ten thirty in the morning on a working day?"

"The Mauville Contests are always a big deal. They only come around about five or six times a year, so it's quite an event."

"How do you fund this?" Ren asked, flabbergasted. "This place is huge! How do you only use it that much?"

"We rent out the facilities," Contesta said with a shrug. "It's a very popular venue for circuses, dance troupes and classical drama performances. Like this afternoon, the Mauville School of Dance is putting on a show."

"And you double-booked and didn't realise it until, like, yesterday?" Ren hissed disbelievingly. "Surely all this is scheduled months in advance!"

"Communication error," Contesta admitted, adjusting his collar awkwardly. "We were under the impression that the dance show's matinee was tomorrow, so we didn't see the need to change anything. When we came in and started setting up on Tuesday afternoon, they raised a fuss. We didn't really want to cancel either event – especially not the Contest – so we rescheduled. Their two o'clock performance got moved to four, and the noon contest got bumped back to ten thirty. It was widely advertised over the last couple of days, so there shouldn't be too many people that miss it."

"I'm just glad I turned up so early," Ren said wryly. "If I'd tried to turn up for twelve, I'd be late. I haven't been watching much TV or listening to the radio lately, and my people at the League didn't call to tell me about the time change."

"Well, you know how it is," Sukizo said. "Remarkable coincidences lead to remarkable occurrences."

"That's true," Ren said. He glanced down at the table in front of him, noticing for the first time that there was a miniature screen set into it. Currently it was displaying the Contest logo, mirroring the enormous screen opposite him. Contesta and Sukizo had identical screens, and a small microphone extended from the top corner of each.

"All right, let's get this show on the road!"

Ren glanced around to see who was speaking. The voice had boomed out from speakers all around the arena, so it was difficult to ascertain the source. He worked it out soon enough, however. The speaker was a young woman with shoulder-length, light brown hair pulled out into a strangely curled bob. She was wearing a light pink dress and carrying a microphone. As he watched, she made her way into the centre of the arena and addressed the crowd directly.

"I'm Vivian Meridian, and I'll be your host for today's Contest! Are you ready to see some serious, high-calibre competition?" she asked, causing the crowd to roar in anticipation. Once they had quieted down again, she flung an arm out towards the table Ren was sitting at. "Allow me to introduce your judges for today! First, we have Mr. Contesta, Chairman of the Contest Board and director of all Contests in the Hoenn region!"

Contesta smiled and lifted a hand in greeting. "It's my pleasure to be back in Mauville once again," he said, the microphone transmitting his words to the crowd. "I look forward to seeing what today's contestants have to offer."

"Next up is the president of Hoenn's Pokémon Fan Club!" Vivian said. "Mr Sukizo, everybody!"

Sukizo leaned forward to speak into the microphone over the noise of the crowd. "We have some remarkable Coordinators here today, and I'm eager to see what they've come up with for their appeals!"

"Unfortunately, our scheduled guest judge, actress Bella Bianchi, is inconvenienced today and she sends her apologies. However, we have here a young man who's kindly agreed to step in and be our third judge. Ladies and gentlemen, Ren Goodwin, the Hoenn region's newest Pokémon Champion!"

Ren suddenly realised that he was expected to say something. _Play it cool_. "I have to admit I've not been to a Contest before, so I'm learning as I go along. It's great to be here, though. I'm looking forward to it!"

_So much for playing it cool_, he scolded himself silently as Vivian returned to addressing the audience. _Telling them you've never been to a Contest before wasn't the smartest thing you've ever done._

"Without further ado, let's get the appeals round started!" Vivian said enthusiastically. Everything she said was a little too peppy for Ren's taste, but he shrugged and decided he'd have to deal with it.

"This first round is where each Coordinator will have a limited time to impress the judges with a solo appeal. They will use one Pokémon, and the object is to use a variety of moves and techniques in inventive ways. The judges will comment on and score each performance before moving onto the next Coordinator, and scores will be revealed at the end of the round. The eight Coordinators with the highest total scores will move on to the battle rounds!"

_I take it back_, Ren said silently. _Thank Arceus for Vivian Meridian. But wait – battle rounds?_

As the crowd cheered, Vivian introduced the first Coordinator. "Eighteen-year-old Caitlin Evans from Rubello was last year's Grand Festival winner, meaning she is the current holder of the Ribbon Cup!"

Ren raised an eyebrow. _Seems like I'm not the only one here at the top of my game._ He supposed that Caitlin was who Arnold had been referring to when he had mentioned 'high-level Coordinators'.

A door under the large screen opposite the judges cracked open, and Caitlin walked out. Ren squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, staring in disbelief. It was the curly-haired nurse from the Fortree Pokémon Centre. She wasn't wearing the uniform, having swapped it out for a yellow sundress, and her hair was pulled back in a blue ribbon, but it was unmistakeably her.

When she saw Ren, Caitlin winked and threw him a little wave. He returned it blankly.

"Without further ado, let's get this Contest underway!" Vivian said brightly, stepping back out of the arena to stand next to the judges' table.

Ren watched with interest as Caitlin stepped into the centre of the arena, producing a Poké Ball and tossing it high into the air. He squinted at the small sphere; something seemed wrong about it. The colour was a little off, he noticed: slightly bluish.

When the ball reached its apex, the two halves split apart with a familiar _crack_. Rather than simply the usual flash of blue light, though, there was an explosion of golden starbursts that blasted horizontally outwards, dissipating before they reached the crowd.

Realising that he had almost fallen backwards out of his chair from the sudden explosion of light, Ren quickly righted himself in an attempt to retain his dignity. Caitlin's Pokémon became visible, materialising in the centre of the ring next to its owner.

"A Magmar," Contesta murmured, though the microphone appeared to be turned off, and his musings were audible only to Ren and Sukizo. "Not the most orthodox choice for a Contest, but it could definitely work."

_What did Vivian say?_ Ren thought frantically as he watched Caitlin and her duck-billed Fire-type waiting quietly in the ring, soaking up the crowd's applause. _Using moves and techniques in inventive ways? How does that work with no opponent?_

_Guess the only find out is to watch and see,_ he decided. _Seriously, how have I gone fifteen years without ever seeing a Contest? Think, Ren. They used to show these things on TV!_ True to form, there were camera crews spaced unobtrusively around the edge of the arena, cameras trained on Caitlin and Magmar.

"All right, Magmar!" Caitlin said at length, sweeping her arm upwards. "Flamethrower, to the sky! Spin it!"

With a honk of affirmation, Magmar tipped its head back and belched a rippling tongue of flame upwards. The stream was continuous and unbroken, reaching a good twenty metres up into the air. Ren watched skeptically as Magmar began to turn on the spot, varying the inclination of its head to create a tightly curled spiral of livid orange fire that corkscrewed upwards towards the ceiling.

"Remarkable control," Sukizo said quietly. "Now she just needs to show she can finish it."

Caitlin waved to the crowd, seeming to enjoy the attention. Magmar sped up its rotation without being visibly cued, and the spiral of flame grew tighter still, whirling like a dervish.

Caitlin's lips moved, but Ren couldn't make out her words over the noise of the crowd. A split second later, the gouts of fire issuing from Magmar's bill ceased. It was followed immediately, however, by an explosive beam of pure white light that blasted straight upwards with a _boom_, mixing with the Flamethrower attack to create a pillar of marbled white and orange light that seemed almost liquid in its motion. The illusion lasted only a moment, however, as the flames ceased their spiralling and scattered in all directions, broken into hundreds of tiny, glowing embers by the force of the Hyper Beam attack.

As the remnants of the attack shot up out of the skylight into the blue sky, the tiny tongues of flame flickered, dropping slowly towards the ground in a shower of molten gold. The crowd oohed appreciatively; even in full daylight, the fire glowed brightly.

As Caitlin and Magmar took their bows, the crowd burst into thunderous applause. Ren blinked slowly, trying to take in the unusual sight he had just witnessed. He was partially impressed, but at the same time part of his mind was complaining: _That's not how you do it! This isn't a Pokémon battle!_

After the crowd had quieted down, Contesta leaned forward a little and addressed Caitlin, speaking into his microphone for the benefit of the audience. "That was a very impressive performance from a top-level Coordinator. That'll be a hard act to follow!"

"You definitely set the bar high for today," Sukizo agreed. "Using the Hyper Beam attack to destroy the Flamethrower was an unusual choice, and it made for a remarkable spectacle."

Realising he was supposed to say something too, Ren adjusted his microphone slightly. "Er . . . well, I have to say that I'm starting to regret not coming to a Contest earlier, especially if that's the kind of performance we can expect to see. I'm very impressed!"

Caitlin gave the three judges a nod and a smile as she made her way off the stage, leaving Vivian to take over again, which she did with considerable gusto.

Ren had panicked a little about what he was supposed to say. Watching Caitlin's performance, a little corner of his mind had been desperately trying – and failing – to come up with something intelligent and relevant to say about Caitlin's performance. Contesta and Sukizo's comments, however, had made him realise that he didn't need to say anything so specialised. After all, the judging decisions were supposed to be made secretly. He couldn't give away too many hints.

To Ren's disappointment, the following Coordinator's performance was not quite as impressive as Caitlin's had been. Fifteen-year-old Jamie from Lilycove put up a decent show with his Surskit, but the cloud of sparkling bubbles that they generated – while very pretty indeed – lacked the impact of Magmar's Flamethrower and Hyper Beam combo.

_There's more to this Contest business than I thought_, Ren grumbled silently. The whole concept was still slightly alien to him – it seemed a little like showing off, and the lack of battling confused his subconscious a bit – but he was slowly warming to it. There was, he had to admit, something impressive about Contests in an entirely different way to battling. The two were like apples and oranges, and comparing them was just asking for trouble. Resolving to stop complicating things more than was necessary, Ren said something nice about Jamie's appeal and sat back to await the third Coordinator with a little more ease than before.

The appeals were just as varied as the Coordinators who provided them, ranging from displays of massive strength to delicate pirouettes. A Makuhita lifted a whole car above its head before crushing it down to the size of a television. A Jigglypuff – visiting from Kanto with its Coordinator – had half the audience snoring before Contesta drowsily called off the appeal.

As the appeals went by – there were over two dozen competitors, he was told – Ren found himself becoming more and more comfortable with the whole idea. He found that offering commentary on the various appeals wasn't as hard as he had imagined, and he eventually realised that he was genuinely enjoying himself. _Who'd have thought?_

After thirteen more Coordinators had come forward and performed their appeals for the judges and the crowd, Vivian made an announcement that piqued his interest.

"And now, the runner-up at last year's Grand Festival! It's seventeen-year-old Arnold Leonheart from Ever Grande City!"

Ren blinked in surprise as Arnold stepped out into the arena, smiling and waving energetically at the crowd.

_What the hell? Grand Festival runner-up? He didn't say anything about that! Then again, I didn't tell him I was the Champion, either . . ._

Arnold shot Ren a strange look as he continued to wave at the crowd. It was a mixture of confusion and amusement, a look that Ren imagined was probably mirrored on his own face at that moment.

_This ought to be interesting._


	33. The Circus of Circumstance

Wow, guys. I hope you appreciate how hard it was for me to get this chapter done. I realised halfway through writing the Contest scene that I really hate writing Contest scenes. As a result, this thing took me months to write. On the other hand, it covers the entirety of what remains of the Contest and it's nearly six and a half thousand words long - about 150% of my average chapter length so far. So take that as a bit of an apology, I guess? Seriously, I owe you a thousand apologies for being so slow updating lately. Chapter 34 is already finished too, so that'll be coming out some time next week.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Three<strong>

_The Circus of Circumstance_

Arnold took his place in the middle of the ring and sent out his Pokémon without a word.

The resulting flash of blue light revealed a Pokémon Ren was well familiar with – a Lunatone, a mystical Psychic-type that acted as a counterpart to the rare and mysterious Solrock. Both were originally said to have come from space, landing in one of the many extraterrestrial objects that gave the Meteor Falls their name. As such, Ren had seen several of them floating around when he'd been training north of Rustboro. He had considered catching one at the time, but it seemed too cruel. Lunatone had a notable aversion to sunlight, which could have presented difficulties. Instead, he'd caught one of the diurnal Solrock that lived in the same area.

Arnold's Lunatone seemed to have no such reservations about the bright sunlight that streamed through the skylights, though. It levitated composedly at its Coordinator's side, a perfectly shaped crescent of light brown stone. The one large, red eye that Ren could see seemed to be watching him with a detached sort of interest.

"Lunatone," Arnold said, his voice relaxed and free of stress. "Just like we practiced, all right?"

Lunatone hummed a single, long note, and Arnold nodded. "Ah, right. Can we have the lights down, please?" he asked the room at large.

Next to Ren, Contesta nodded and tapped his something on his screen. There was a whirring sound from above, and Ren looked up to see two enormous shutters rolling across the skylight, leeching the light from the room. With a _boom_, the shutters met in the centre of the ceiling, leaving the arena lit only by the auxiliary spotlights. A moment later, they all shut off as well, plunging the space into darkness.

For ten seconds, the Contest Hall was deathly silent. Ren couldn't see a thing, but he could tell that every eye in the stands was fixed on where Lunatone ought to be. Abruptly, a pinprick of red light appeared in the centre of the arena. The light was faint at first, emanating from Lunatone's eyes, but after just a few seconds it spread across the entire rocky surface, turning chalky brown into a crimson sheen.

Ren became dimly aware of a low ringing in his ears. He frowned and shook his head in an effort to dispel it, but the sound only became louder. It soon became apparent that the sound was coming from Lunatone, which was visible only as a bright red crescent in the centre of the darkened room.

As Lunatone's humming grew louder, the light grew brighter. Before long, Ren could see Arnold quite plainly, his face lit by soft scarlet light. He was smiling in satisfaction, making no move to direct his Pokémon. It was evident to Ren that everything was going according to plan.

As the unearthly humming reached a crescendo, a flash of white light scythed through the red, followed by another and then a third in quick succession. With each flash of white light, Lunatone hovered a little higher off the ground until it was levitating well above the judges' heads.

All at once, the humming and the flashing stopped, sending the room back into darkness and silence. Before the spectators could even begin to wonder whether the appeal was over, there was a thunderous crash, accompanied by a meteoric flash of white light that made everybody in the hall blink. Spherical pulses of white light went careening around the darkened room, giving brief flashes of illumination as they passed. Lunatone itself was visible only for split seconds at the nucleus of the light show.

Suddenly, all of the balls of light came to a halt, arrayed in a wide arc near the ceiling of the hall. There had to be at least a dozen of them. Lunatone let out one final, high-pitched chime and they burst like fireworks, morphing instantly into wide starbursts that stretched and wheeled through the air.

As the light faded, the crowd burst into applause. Ren joined them after a moment, starbursts still popping in his eyes. With a _clunk_, the shades covering the skylight began to retract, allowing sunlight to flood back into the arena. The sudden burst of light revealed Arnold standing proudly with his Lunatone in the centre of the hall, soaking up the audience's adulation with a wide smile on his face.

It took a full twenty seconds for the crowd to quiet down, but once they did, Contesta leaned forward and spoke into his microphone. "Well, that was extraordinarily impressive. It's obvious you put a lot of thought into crafting your appeal today, and the result was spectacular."

"Indeed," agreed Sukizo, "you made remarkable use of Lunatone's origin as a Pokémon of the night. Most impressive!"

Ren raised an eyebrow at Arnold, but thought better of commenting on the other boy's failure to mention who he was. "That was seriously awesome, Arnold. On top of being visually appealing, I thought it was pretty cool how it was way different from everybody else's."

Arnold nodded appreciatively at the comments and withdrew from the stage, Lunatone floating at his side.

"So Arnold and Caitlin are both top finishers in the last Grand Festival?" Ren murmured to Contesta as Vivian moved on to introduce the next contender. "That's interesting."

"It's unusual to see two Coordinators of such calibre in the same Contest, yes. Not unheard of, of course. What _is_ unusual, though, is seeing Miss Evans continuing to compete on the Hoenn circuit."

"Of course, she wouldn't need to keep winning, would she? If she's already qualified for the Grand Festival, I mean."

Contesta shook his head. "It's not that. The Grand Festival is a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. Winning it disqualifies you from entering future tournaments, though you are still allowed to take part in normal Contests. Most winners tend to travel to another region and try for the Ribbon Cup there after winning, but Miss Evans has been competing in Contests since her victory."

"I guess she just enjoys it, then," Ren mused, but he quickly shut up when he noticed that the next Coordinator was already heading out onto the stage.

_But really, why does she keep competing? _Ren wondered. _It's not like I've been going around collecting Gym badges since I won the League._

_Haven't you?_ whispered a little voice in his head. _You did get the Jet Badge off Skyla the other day._

The rest of the appeals went by in something of a blur for Ren. Just like after Caitlin's performance, those who followed Arnold failed to measure up to his standard.

"You doing all right, Ren?" Contesta asked as the last contestant bowed his way off the stage, almost tripping over his own feet several times in the process.

"I'm fine, fine," Ren said, forcing himself to concentrate. "What happens now?"

"We take a break to deliberate. While normally each contestant would be marked out of ten after their appeal, we're trialling a new system where the judging takes place behind closed doors, so nobody finds out their score until everyone's had their turn. Here, we'll go back to the anteroom to choose our finalists." With that, Contesta rose from his chair, indicating that Ren and Sukizo should follow.

Ren did so curiously. He really hoped that he wouldn't have to give marks out of ten for each performance; he couldn't even remember half of them. He felt increasingly uncomfortable as they left the buzzing arena behind and retreated to the peace and quiet of the room in which Ren had first met the other two judges.

"Let me ask you first, Ren," Contesta said once they were all seated on the plush leather couch near the drinks bar. "Were there any contestants that stood out for you? Any performances you particularly liked?"

Ren nodded. "Arnold and Caitlin," he said without hesitation. "The kid with the Duskull wasn't bad, but those two were definitely above and beyond the rest."

Contesta nodded in agreement, smiling. "Most definitely," he said. "Now . . . seeing as you're new to this, Ren, would you be at all offended if I asked you to sit out the rest of the judging process? I don't doubt your ability, far from it, but-"

"It's fine," Ren said quickly. "Really, I don't mind. I was a bit worried, to be honest, so I'm perfectly happy for you to do the rest of the judging yourselves. I'm not qualified, so I understand completely if you want to go on and do it without me."

Ren allowed himself to drift slightly as Sukizo and Contesta discussed numbers and percentages, scores and ratios flying every which way like a swarm of startled Beedrill. He glanced across to the opposite wall, where a muted television set was displaying replays of some of the more interesting performances, interspersed with shots of Vivian Meridian talking to the Coordinators in what appeared to be a dressing room of some kind. Caitlin, the nurse from the Fortree Pokémon Centre, was gesticulating enthusiastically as she explained something to Vivian.

"Ren, what do you think?" Sukizo said, causing Ren to start as he turned his attention quickly away from the screen.

"I'm sorry?" Ren said quickly. "What was that?"

"Which Coordinator do you think should be top seed going into the battle round?" Contesta asked. "It's clear that it should be either Arnold Leonheart or Caitlin Evans, but we're having trouble deciding which. What's your view on the matter?"

Ren frowned, casting his mind back to both performances. "Well, they were both very flashy in their own way," he said, "but I think Arnold's showed more technical skill and a more complex arrangement. I'm not really much of a judge, though . . ."

"Not at all!" Sukizo said, smiling genially. "You make some very good points."

"In that case," Contesta said with a smile, "Mr. Leonheart will go into the first battle round as top seed, followed by Miss Evans. Does that sound fair?"

Ren nodded mutely, still unsure whether he was even qualified to give his opinion. "But what do you mean by 'battle round'?" he asked as a sudden thought struck him. "I keep hear it being mentioned, but how does that work? I thought the whole point of Contests was to act as an alternative to battling."

"That's true in a way," Contesta said as he rose from the couch, "but having Coordinators participate in a battle round allows for a more decisive outcome not entirely reliant on the opinions of the judges."

"Not entirely?" Ren repeated, frowning. "If it's a battle, how do the judges come into it at all?"

"Come with me and I'll show you," Contesta said, leading the way back into the arena.

Ren followed curiously. The crowd was still buzzing eagerly, but a momentary hush fell over them at the reappearance of the judges, only to sweep almost instantly back up into excited chatter.

As Ren took his seat at the judges' table once more, he noticed that the display on his screen had changed, still mirroring the jumbotron opposite him. It now displayed four unidentifiable silhouettes overlaid with large question marks – representing, he assumed, the four Coordinators who would take part in the battle rounds.

As he sat down, Contesta tapped his own screen several times, causing each of the four silhouettes to light up gold. Once this was done, he glanced across and nodded once towards the middle of the stage, where Vivian Meridian had reappeared as if by magic.

"All right!" Vivian said loudly, her voice projected throughout the arena. "It's time to get the next round started!"

The audience fell completely silent, every eye fixed on the giant screens. Ren shivered involuntarily; the tension was almost palpable.

"Four Coordinators will take part in the battle rounds in a simple knockout format," Vivian announced. "The last contestant standing will take home the Mauville ribbon! So, without further ado, ladies and gentlemen . . . your four finalists!"

With a loud _bing_, the screens flashed a brilliant white. When the light faded a split second later, the four golden silhouettes had been replaced by headshots of the four top contestants: Arnold, Caitlin, the boy with the Duskull – _was it Luke?_ – and another Coordinator that Ren recognised vaguely.

"What happens now?" Ren murmured, leaning over towards Contesta as Vivian carried on announcing the finalists.

"The first and fourth seeds will battle with one Pokémon each, followed by the second and third seeds. You win if you knock out your opponent's Pokémon, of course – but the difference is that if there's still no winner after five minutes, the Coordinator with the most points remaining wins."

"Points? How does that work in a situation like this?"

"You'll see what I mean in a moment, but basically, each contestant starts the battle at 100%. As the head judge, I take points off for various things – whether that be missed attacks, taking damage, loss of control and poise . . ."

"It sounds complicated," Ren commented.

"It is, and it gets worse," Contesta chuckled. "Coordinators can minimise the points they lose by adhering to certain Contest ideals – finesse, technique and beauty."

"I see," Ren lied. He was starting to feel out of his depth once again – but at least there was going to be battling after a fashion.

With a loud, blaring tone, the screens changed again, this time displaying the profiles of two Coordinators, each with a bright yellow bar under his photograph. Arnold, it seemed, would be battling first against Luke and his Duskull.

The two Coordinators appeared to thunderous applause. Arnold waved appreciatively at the crowd as he took his place at one end of the arena, but Luke – a mousy little boy who couldn't have been more than thirteen – seemed a little unsteady on his feet as he made his way to the other end.

Ren bit his lip in sympathy. He had seen Trainers like Luke before: inexperiecned and clearly out of their depth, but struggling valiantly to hide it. Although Luke's Duskull would have a type advantage over Lunatone – _they do have to use the same Pokémon, right?_ – Ren could already see which way this battle was likely to go.

"If both contestants are ready," Vivian was saying, "then let's get the battle round started!"

Arnold grinned, snatching a Poké Ball from his belt and thumbing the release switch. "Lunatone, let's go!"

Mouth pressed tightly shut, Luke tossed his own Poké Ball up into the air. At the top of its arc, it burst open in a shower of sparks, leaving duskull floating several metres above the battlefield, staring Lunatone down with the single ghostly eye that floated between its hollow, skeletal eye sockets.

"Are the judges ready?" Vivian asked, turning to address the panel directly. At Contesta's nod, she whirled back around, throwing her hand in the air. "In that case . . . battle begin!"

Ren watched curiously as Luke gave his Duskull some inaudible command. The small Ghost-type sped towards its opponent as if shot out of a cannon. _What is he doing? You can't fight close-quarters with this sort of matchup!_

Arnold had apparently come to the same conclusion. "Psychic!" he said sharply.

Lunatone's eyes flashed blue, and Duskull abruptly stopped and flew backwards as if it had collided with a physical obstacle. It tumbled helplessly for a few seconds before righting itself.

"Ooh, that's going to cost Luke some points," Vivian winced.

Sure enough, there was a loud _blip-blip-blip_ as a small portion of Luke's yellow bar drained away, leaving only a black void behind. Contesta appeared to be controlling the points via the screen set into his desk, Ren noticed.

Luke seemed unwilling to be thwarted so easily, however. "Duskull, use your Will-o-wisp attack. Just like we practiced," he ordered, his voice wavering ever so slightly.

Duskull rose into the air, a ghostly sphere of bluish fire coalescing in front of it. With a haunting, moaning trill, it flung the fireball at Lunatone.

As the attack split into five separate projectiles, Arnold gave a swift command that Ren didn't quite catch. Lunatone surged forwards, a swiftly forming glob of ghostly energy hovering between the two points of its crescent-shaped body.

_Good tactic, _Ren congratulated Arnold silently. _Cancel out the attack with a similar one. Since this is a Contest battle, it'll make a good show, too. Flashy . . ._

To his surprise, however, Lunatone held its fire, charging directly towards Duskull's attack. Rather than countering, Lunatone took the attack head-on, losing about a sixth of its points in the process.

What happened next only heightened Ren's surprise. Apparently unhurt, though slightly blackened, Lunatone burst out of the bluish-purple conflagration and slammed directly into Duskull, its Shadow Ball still roiling fiercely. The impact was solid and carried an unmistakable air of finality. Sure enough, Duskull crashed to the ground with an impact that belied its size.

It didn't get up. Indeed, it appeared that the small Ghost-type was unable to move, despite the exhortations of its frightened Coordinator. After a few seconds of agonising stillness, a loud buzzer sounded as Duskull's nearly-full points bar was replaced with a large red X.

Ren blinked in surprise as the crowd broke into applause and Vivian started off again. It seemed that Arnold was a more serious battler than he'd imagined. Ren instantly felt bad for having discounted the Coordinator's skill, even subconsciously. _There's still battling involved_, he said silently. _It's not like they don't have to work as hard as I do, or even harder._

Even so, he didn't think he'd be trying Contests any time soon if he could avoid it. The extra frills and complications that came with the format were still somewhat anathema to him, and as much as he considered himself able to sit and enjoy watching a Contest, he couldn't imagine himself ever competing in one. Trying to picture himself on the stage, posing and directing his Pokemon with one hand high in the air, was incredibly difficult and made him snort with barely disguised laughter. He would have to explain himself to Gerard, though, he realised.

Caitlin's semifinal battle went by even more quickly than Arnold's, if that were possible. No sooner had her opponent, a fierce-looking girl with short black hair and heavily tattooed arms, called her first attack than Magmar unleashed a blistering barrage of fireballs that hammered explosively into the opponent's Banette, sending it flying backwards to land in a crumpled heap at the base of the restraining wall below the stands.

Ren thought he saw Contesta roll his eyes ever so slightly as he declared Caitlin the winner. Then again, he might have been imagining things. There was to be another short break before the final match, so Ren took the opportunity to slip away from the judges' table and make his way backstage.

The atmosphere in the green room was, to Ren's surprise, entirely different than the cheerful, amicably competitive mood that had prevailed thus far on the main stage. Arnold and Caitlin were sitting on opposite sides of a small table, each apparently making a concerted effort not to look at the other. Lunatone and Magmar waited behind their respective Coordinators; Lunatone bobbed slightly in place, but otherwise the small room was entirely devoid of movement. The only sound was the distant noise of the babbling crowd.

"Um . . . hello?" he said uncertainly as he shut the door behind him.

"Ren!" Arnold said with a grin, getting up and striding towards him as if he were the only person in the room.

Simultaneously, Caitlin stood to greet him with a smile that faded as soon as she saw Arnold moving. "You know him?" she said, directing her words at Ren.

"Uh . . . yes," Ren said, glancing awkwardly between the two of them.

"You've met her before?" Arnold said, a slightly accusatory note in his voice.

Ren nodded, suddenly very aware of the tension in the room. "Once or twice."

"Well, it was nice of you to come and wish me luck for the final," Arnold said breezily, turning to sit back down in his chair. "Don't worry, I'll beat her."

"Oh, for goodness' sake!" Caitlin grumbled. "You came to cheer _me_ on, didn't you, Ren?"

"Uh." Ren was having trouble processing the situation. _What the hell is the history between these two?_

"Stupid woman," Arnold snorted. "Ren and I are practically best mates. You think he'd come here to support _you?_"

"I think he would," Caitlin said, addressing a point a couple of feet above Arnold's head. "I mean, it's obvious that I'm going to win anyway, so why would he support anyone else?"

"That's rich. I guess you're planning to win this one like you 'won' Lilycove last year?" Arnold challenged her.

Caitlin flushed pink and turned on her heel, now refusing to meet anybody's eyes. "That was the only time!" she snapped. "It's not going to happen again, and you know it!"

Ren shook his head. "Look," he said, making a concerted effort to regain control of the situation. "I came to wish you _both_ good luck. I'm a judge - though I haven't been doing much judging - and I should probably try and be neutral. Even if that wasn't the case, I want you both to do well. All right?"

"Right," Caitlin said, her voice strained.

"Sure," Arnold said. "See ya round, Ren."

Shaking his head, Ren returned to the judging table just as Vivian was getting into the swing of her commentary again. The screen was showing recaps of the appeal rounds and the semifinals.

"Let me guess," Contesta said in a low voice as Ren slipped back into his seat. "No joy backstage?"

"Not a bit," Ren sighed. "Are they always like that?"

"For as long as I've know them," Contesta said. "And before you ask, no, I don't know the reason for it, but for whatever reason, they're never on good terms.

"Hmm," Ren said, but he didn't have time to extrapolate any further, as that was the moment when Arnold and Caitlin reappeared on the stage. Both had their game faces on, Ren noticed; they smiled widely at the crowd and shook hands amicably before retreating to opposite ends of the battlefield. Nevertheless, Ren thought he detected an element of stiffness in the pair of them, a difference so slight that under different circumstances, he would have been convinced it was imaginary. As the two Coordinators faced each other down across the battlefield, there was a palpable level of tension above and beyond what he could normally sense at the start of a battle. It reminded him of a battle he'd had mere weeks before.

_No, not a battle; an opponent._

_Damien._

Before he even realised that he'd let himself get lost in his own memories, the battle was underway.

Caitlin seized the initiative. "Flamethrower!" she snapped. Magmar sucked in a huge breath before leaning forward and spewing out a roiling blast of red-hot flame that roared towards Lunatone.

Arnold seemed unworried. "Cover yourself, Lunatone," he said quietly, his words almost lost under the roaring flame. Lunatone's eyes flashed a brighter red than normal, and a translucent barrier of white light appeared directly in front of it.

The Flamethrower attack slammed into Lunatone's Light Screen with a _whoomph_ that shook the arena. Lunatone's defense bent and shook, but it diverted the lethal flames off to all sides in a spectacular burning starburst.

Contesta nodded appreciatively and shaved off about a tenth of Magmar's points.

Caitlin wasn't giving up, however. "Brick Break!" she shouted, and Magmar leapt high into the air before slamming down into Lunatone's shield with a clenched fist. The Light Screen shattered into a thousand brilliant pieces and Magmar kept going, crashing into Lunatone and sending the pair of them slamming into the ground.

Before the dust had even cleared, Magmar leapt backwards and landed squarely on its feet, apparently unhurt. Lunatone's points bar dropped by nearly a quarter, and Ren winced in sympathy.

Arnold grimaced, but his voice was level. "Lunatone! Rock Polish, and make it quick." Lunatone shot upwards at a speed Ren would have thought physically impossible for such a Pokemon. It looked slightly worse for wear, but as it rocketed around the arena, slicing through the air like a fighter jet, Magmar was suddenly the one on the back foot. It turned every which way, attempting to follow its opponent's movements, but apparently to no avail, as Arnold took the opportunity to deal some heavy damage.

"Bulldoze!" he roared, and Lunatone changed its course to dash straight at Magmar, clubbing it squarely in the face and shooting off again. "Keep it up!" Arnold said excitedly, and Lunatone wheeled around, coming in for another pass from another direction. Magmar was unable to guard against the furious onslaught as Lunatone battered it mercilessly from every direction.

Ren found himself on the edge of his seat as Magmar's points dropped steadily. This was something else, he decided. It was a battle, for sure, but even in the heat of the fray, every move was calculated for maximum visual appeal. Lunatone's skilful use of Light Screen, Magmar's perfectly timed Brick Break, Arnold's combination of Rock Polish and Bulldoze . . . each had probably been designed on the spot. The reaction speed necessary to keep up in a battle like this had to be phenomenal. _This is on a whole different level to the semifinals._

Just as Caitlin's points dropped below the halfway mark, she made her move. "Grab it!" she ordered. As Lunatone swung by for another pass, Magmar ducked, its movements slightly unsteady, and fastened its arms around Lunatone's lower body as it passed, allowing itself to be dragged along.

Lunatone lifted up into the air, leaving Magmar with its legs windmilling wildly as it struggled to cling on. "Shake it off!" Arnold shouted. Lunatone jackknifed with incredible mobility, swinging back and forth and zigzagging through the air, but Magmar hung on grimly, even clawing its way a little further up Lunatone's body.

"Do it now, Magmar!" Caitlin called. "Lava Plume!"

Ren saw Arnold's eyes widen as he started to call an order to Lunatone, but it was too late. In a split second, Magmar seemed to explode in fire, enormous, roaring flames springing up all around the two Pokemon in midair and blasting in all directions with scant regard for safety. At the centre of the maelstrom, Magmar was barely visible as a white-hot point of energy, radiating massive waves of fire more powerful than Ren had ever seen before. He flinched in his seat as the heat washed over him, and he saw people in the front rows of the audience doing the same.

It took nearly ten seconds for the fire to dissipate. When it did, both Pokemon were back on the ground. Magmar was still standing, flames flickering all over its body. Lunatone, on the other hand, was lying on the charred floor, rocking slightly with the residual force of the impact.

Magmar crossed slowly to where Lunatone was lying and put one flat foot on top of it, stopping its movement and moving the result of the battle beyond all doubt. As Arnold's side of the screen lit up with a large red X, the crowd found its voice and roared its approval.

"And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen!" said Vivian Meridian, striding forward to stand in the middle of the stage and address the crowd. "The battle is over, and we have our winner! Caitlin Evans from Rubello, everybody!"

The next fifteen minutes went by in something of a whirl for Ren. Still slightly off-kilter thanks to the massive Lava Plume attack, he presented Caitlin with the Mauville Ribbon, shook hands with both finalists, smiled for photos with Arnold, Caitlin, Contesta and Sukizo, and made his way back to the anteroom, where he flopped down on the couch with a sigh.

"So, Ren," Sukizo said with a smile as he and Contesta entered the room behind Ren. "Wasn't that a remarkable spectacle?"

"It really was," Ren agreed. "I might have to come and watch some more Contests in the future, but I really don't know about participating in them."

"Well, we wouldn't expect you to if you didn't want to," Contesta said. "Nevertheless, you did a great job of judging today."

"It's not like I did much," Ren protested. "Still, thanks for letting me do it. It was fun, even though I had absolutely no idea what I was doing."

"Sometimes you don't need to know," Contesta said. "Sometimes all you need to do is have a little bit of fun. Mr. Sukizo and I have been judging Contests together for more than twenty years now, so we know what we're about."

"Well, I did enjoy myself," said Ren, "so I guess that's okay."

"Are you meant to be going anywhere after this, Ren? We'd love to have you stay a little longer."

"I'm afraid I really should get going," Ren admitted, standing up and stretching. "I have somewhere . . . important I need to be. Have Arnold and Caitlin already left?"

"Mr. Leonheart has left already, yes. I believe he said he was going to the Pokemon Centre in town, if you needed to catch up to him. Miss Evans is still on the premises, though. You'll probably find her in the foyer."

"Thanks, Mr. Contesta," Ren said. "I'll stop by and say hi before I go. Maybe she'll be in a better mood now."

Contesta chuckled. "All right, Ren. I'll see you at another Contest in the future, I hope."

"Sure thing," Ren said, nodding as he headed for the door. "Thanks again!"

True to what Contesta had said, Caitlin was in the foyer, though it took him a few moments to locate her amid the stream of people exiting the building.

"Oh, Ren!" she said brightly when she saw him. She quickly excused herself from the small crowd of people that had formed around her and breezed across to Ren, drawing him out of the way of the constantly moving throng. "How was your first Contest?"

"It was great, actually," Ren said honestly. "You were fantastic, by the way. It was quite a surprise to see you down here in Mauville."

"Well, I was only working part-time in the Pokemon Centre while I was up in Fortree for the Contest they had a couple of weeks ago. I'm actually training to become a nurse, but that's mostly on the backburner while I focus on my Contests."

"I suppose stranger things have happened," Ren said.

"Guess so," Caitlin agreed. "Hey, do you mind if we step outside? I could use a little fresh air." She didn't wait for a response, leaving him to follow her as she navigated through the crowd toward the doors.

Ren shrugged and tailed her outside, where he found her already seated on a bench among the flowering trees that decorated the Contest Hall's exterior. She seemed somehow detached from the scene, however, as if she had been clumsily pasted on top of a photograph. There was something in her manner that Ren hadn't noticed previously. In the Pokemon Centre in Fortree, she had been all business. In the green room backstage, the only thing he had sensed was the tension that sprung from her unexplained feud with Arnold. _Now, though_ . . .

Ren sat down on the bench next to her and looked intently at her. "Are you . . . all right, Caitlin?" he asked hesitantly. Her blue eyes were distant, looking somewhere into the distance; her pretty face was drawn.

She laughed slightly, lips quirking into a smile that failed to reach her eyes. "I'm about as good as I can be, Ren," she said. "About as good as I can be."

"Well, that's specific," Ren grumbled. "You don't look 'good'. You look like you're spacing out."

"Oh, that? I'm sorry, Ren. I always get like this a little bit after a Contest. It probably doesn't make much sense, but that's how it goes." She blinked a few times, as if realising where she was, and turned to look at Ren.

Ren looked at her askance.

"Oh, don't give me that!" she laughed, shoving him gently. "I'm fine."

Ren grinned despite himself. Whatever was bothering her had retreated for now, he could see. He didn't want to risk bringing it out again right then, but he made a mental note to keep a weather eye on Caitlin in future. Something about the look in her bright blue eyes reminded him of himself at the times when he didn't know where he was going. Even though she was at least three years his senior, Ren felt very much like the older one at that moment.

"I . . . should go," Ren said at length. "It was good to see you - well, to meet you properly - but I have somewhere I need to be." He shuddered slightly as the bitter memory of his real reason for coming to Mauville surface from beneath the befuddling sea of Contest appeals and battles.

"Busy guy, huh?" Caitlin said; she sounded almost wistful. "Sure, I understand. I'll catch you later, Ren."

"Alright," Ren said, standing up and stretching, feeling the joints pop in his back. He had been sitting down an awful lot today. "See you round, Caitlin."

"Wait!" she said suddenly as he made to leave, digging in her pocket and handing him a bright pink Pokenav. "Add your number so I actually _can_ catch you later."

"I didn't know they made them in this colour," Ren commented as he obliged.

"It's custom-made," she said with a hint of pride. "Say, will you be in town long? We could meet up again or something. You know, as one Champion to another, so to speak."

"Only till tomorrow morning," Ren said. "I'm catching the ten o'clock train back to Slateport."

"Aw, well. I'll see you some other time, then.

Taking his leave of Caitlin, Ren wandered randomly through the streets of Mauville. Although he had told everybody that he had somewhere to be, there was really no hurry whatsoever. He glanced at his watch - it was barely two in the afternoon, nearly five hours till sundown.

Even so, throughout the afternoon Ren had felt a creeping urge to get away, to escape from the crowded buzz of people and problems. For nearly an hour, he found some measure of solace tracking aimless circles through Mauville's streets. He didn't think about the world of dreams, or the MacKenzie farm, or Elly, or the Contest, or Caitlin, or Nekros. He just watched the city go by, observing the businesses turn into red-brick houses and then back again as he circled around into the CBD. Mauville was relatively comparable to Slateport in size, but the atmosphere of the city was noticeably different. While Slateport was possessed of a kind of worn-in grit that came from decades upon decades of being a centre of industry, Mauville felt cleaner and fresher. There were trees lining the streets - though nowhere near as many as in Fortree - and small, sunny parks every few blocks. It was a good city to wander in, he decided, but he wouldn't want to live there. Somehow, he couldn't imagine himself settling down anywhere without a view of the sea.

_Sootopolis might be nice,_ he thought. _A city inside a volcano . . . _that was a novel idea. Then again, he couldn't see himself settling down _anywhere_ for several years to come. _But who says I have to? Can't I just keep on roaming? Whenever I'm at home, I can never find anything to do with my time. Why is that? Why can't I just act like a normal kid sometimes?_

The realisation didn't hit him all at once, as epiphanies are often wont to do. Rather than leaping out and knocking the breath out of him, it crept slowly up on him, and before he knew it, it had him in its grasp before he even noticed it was there.

_I missed five years of my life_. He had never once regretted taking the Pokemon League challenge, not in the slightest. But he hadn't been to school since before he turned ten - though he had been sure to keep up with his work. He'd skipped the formative years of his life and spent them roaming around Hoenn training Pokemon and collecting Gym badges. He'd met dozens and dozens of people in his travels, but very few of them could be counted as friends. If he had stayed in Slateport and gone on to high school, would he now be living a normal life? Would he be hanging out with friends at the mall, going to the movies and having friendly Pokemon battles in the park?

_Does it even matter?_ With a sudden shock of clarity, he realised that it didn't. He had given up the possibility of that normal life in exchange for something much better. In the last five years, he had travelled to so many places, seen so many different Pokemon and achieved more than many of his classmates would in their whole lifetime. At the end of all that, he still had his family around him and he was making new friends left, right and centre.

Bella Bianchi, Steven's actress friend, in Rustboro; Karl and Skyla in Fortree; and now, Arnold and Caitlin. He would see them all again, he knew. It was a delicious sense of certainty that he had rarely had cause to feel before, simply because it was truer than anything he had ever felt before. Yet even if he started roving like he had before, now more than ever he felt that it would work.

With a fresh smile on his face, Ren turned west and headed for the city border and the Mackenzie farm. He had a job to do here, and he was damn well going to do it.


	34. Boo

I HAVE BEEN WAITING SO LONG TO WRITE THIS ARC YOU HAVE NO IDEA

With that out of my system, I'd just like to thank all you guys for the lovely reviews. It's nice to know that I haven't been forgotten even though I disappeared for a couple of months, and I always love to hear that people are enjoying these little scribblings of mine.

Fun fact time! This story was originally meant to be _only_ about Ren's trials and tribulations as a Champion. There wasn't going to be a world of dreams, but then I had this one week where I watched all of _Yumekui Merry_ and read all of _Ble__ach_ (as I alluded to in the author's notes for Chapter 1) and suddenly everything was swords and demons and dreams and yeah. I wrote up to the end of Chapter One before that happened, though - if I recall correctly, that is. And no, I have no idea what Steven was originally going to tell Ren that was so important. Something about interviews, maybe? No idea. Oh, and the couple of people who noticed Elly's similarity to Rukia . . . well, it sure wasn't intentional, but in hindsight it's quite glaring. :/

Oh, and woo! 150,000 words! I never thought I'd get anywhere near this far. I'm also posting this on the 1-year anniversary of Champion Game, totally by accident. While I waited a bit before posting it to FFN, Chapter One went up at the Pokecommunity forums on April 20th, 2011. Oh my goodness me. This is the longest I've ever had a fanfic run - in terms of chapter count, wordcount and actual time. Yahoo!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Four<strong>

_Boo_

The weather was fine, but not too hot, so Ren decided to walk the two hours or so to the Mackenzie farm. Additionally, he didn't really want anybody to know where he was that evening. Being spotted could lead to awkward questions, so he kept his head down and stayed well to the side of the road. Mauville slipped away more abruptly than he had imagined, with only a sparse scattering of warehouses to mark the edge of town before a large sign cheerfully bade him 'Goodbye! Come back soon!'.

The footpath disappeared soon enough, but Ren continued unperturbed along the grassy verge. There was a bit of traffic going both ways, but nothing particularly heavy. He heard Taillow singing in the trees as he began to pass farmland, almost drowned out each time a car passed. The scent of grass mixed with the smell of tarmac.

Fifteen minutes later, he took a turnoff as dictated by the map he had brought with him, and the traffic volume dropped considerably. This side road, while still wide and neatly tar-sealed, was hilly and convoluted, wending its way through a series of low hills. A mere ten minutes after leaving the main road it was no longer in sight. Patches of dense brush covered the hillier parts between farmsteads now. Once, he passed a hiking trail that quickly disappeared into the bush. The sun, though still high in the sky, was well into its afternoon descent. As he headed north into the hills, the sun was forever on his left side, so he wasn't worried about it setting behind the hills before he reached his destination.

The hills were quiet, save for the odd car or four-wheel drive that roared past on a mission. One of these, however, did not pass him by. Alerted by the sound of an engine coming from the road behind him, Ren squeezed in to the side of the uneven grass verge to make sure he wasn't in the way. Rather than carrying on past, however, the large, camouflage-green SUV screeched to a halt just ahead of him. The driver's door popped open and a familiar-looking girl jumped out. She was a little shorter than Ren, with black hair cropped boyishly - and clumsily - short. Her bare arms were covered in black and red tattoos almost down to the elbows, and she wore a fitted black singlet as if to show these off, with scruffy khaki pants that looked as if they'd seen better days.

"Mister Champion, as I live and breathe!" she said delightedly as she practically skipped over to him. "I could have sworn I saw you headed out this way. How's things?"

"You're, um . . ." Ren said eloquently. "You were in the Contest today, right? In the semifinals."

"Yup, and I got creamed," she admitted cheerfully, a mischievous grin forming on her face. "I'd like to say 'I almost had her!' or something like that, but that'd be lying through my teeth."

"It doesn't . . . bother you?" Ren asked. Although he was all for not dwelling on the past, this girl seemed awfully chipper for someone who had been defeated so comprehensively just a few hours earlier.

"Hell nah," she said, waving a hand dismissively. She almost seemed to find his concern funny. "I only entered that Contest on a dare anyway. Oh, yeah. I'm Trixie. You have this look on your face that says 'I've completely forgotten your name and I can't work out how to ask you what it is without making a fool of myself', so I'll save you the embarrassment."

"Uh . . . I wasn't exactly-" Ren began, already beginning to feel quite overwhelmed by the sheer force of this girl's personality as she stood and watched him with her head cocked to one side, thumbs thrust casually through her belt loops.

"Sure you weren't." She didn't sound convinced. "Anyway, it's actually short for Beatrice, but if you call me that I'll slap you. Hard. Clear?"

"Uh, clear," Ren said hurriedly, noting the dangerous glint in her eye.

"Good!" Trixie was all smiles again. "So, Champ, you want a ride out to the Mackenzie farm or not?"

Ren froze. "What do you mean by that?" he asked slowly, looking into Trixie's eyes and trying to fathom what she was thinking. Her gaze showed only innocent curiosity, however.

"Am I wrong?" she asked, frowning. "That _is_ where you're going, right? You smell like ghosts."

"That's where I'm going," Ren admitted, forcing himself not to mention her last comment. _I smell like ghosts?_

"Sweet as," she said, spinning on her heel and marching back to her vehicle. "Jump in, then. Ghost-hunting's always more fun with two."

"You do this often?" Ren asked, wondering why in the world he was going along with this strange girl and her whims. He was forcibly reminded of Natasha. "Ghost-hunting, I mean."

"Yup! It's kind of a hobby of mine," she said brightly as she climbed up into the driver's seat. "Any more than two people is too many. Scares the ghosts away. Two's perfect, though. That way, you'll have someone to cling onto when you scream. Don't you go getting too frisky, though."

"Ha ha," Ren said uncomfortably, trying not to go red as he hoisted himself into the passenger seat. It was a lot further from the ground than he'd thought. "Are you even allowed to drive this thing?"

"Probably not, but that doesn't mean I don't know how to," she said, gunning the accelerator.

Ren hastened to clip in his seatbelt as the SUV shot off up the road. Trixie hadn't been lying, it turned out. She _could _drive. The only problem was that she insisted on taking every turn and avoiding every obstacle with a reckless abandon that pushed the limits of safety, causing Ren to spend the whole trip clinging worriedly to the dashboard, despite Trixie's repeated insistence that she hadn't had an accident for at least four months (or was it five?). Thankfully, they didn't encounter any other vehicles, so Trixie had the whole road as a margin of error.

Not quite fifteen minutes later, they came to a halt outside a broken-down farm gate, beyond which lay a worn gravel path that wound up into the hills between rugged, overgrown fields.

"Daaaamn," Trixie said, drawing the syllable out and shaking her head. "This place looks like a tip already. Come on, let's go."

"Where?" Ren asked as she slipped out of the door. He hurried to follow her, almost getting caught in his seatbelt in the process. When he managed to extricate himself, he found Trixie standing with her arms folded, examining a dilapidated letterbox with faded characters reading 'RD 09407 MACKENZIE'.

"Exploring," Trixie answered with an excited grin. "I've heard there's a ghost here - that's why I came to check it out today, of course - but we won't find it if we just go blundering around in the dark. We gotta scope the place out first. C'mon." She stepped over the broken spars of the gate without hesitation.

Ren followed uncertainly, watching his footing on the uneven gravel surface. The path wound tightly through the hills for nearly five minutes, hemmed in on either side by drooping wire fences. Before long, though, a building came into sight, looking just as old and rickety as the gate.

"The farmhouse is where we find the ghost, apparently," Trixie said. "Shall we check it out?"

"Are we even allowed to?" Ren asked. "I feel bad enough about coming this far as it is."

"No Mackenzie has lived here for thirty years," Trixie said airily, stepping up onto the porch - which creaked under her weight - and pushing cautiously at the door. "Some people say that the ghost is Brynn Mackenzie, the last farmer to run this place. Either way, the place has been abandoned for decades. Even the council wants nothing to do with it for whatever reason. Nobody seems to know who even holds the deed to the place."

"Great," Ren said, stepping tentatively onto the porch and examining the door. "Is it stuck?"

"I think so," Trixie grunted, shoving it roughly with one tattooed shoulder. "Here, you help out too, big guy."

"Seriously?" Ren said. "I'm all of five foot six."

Trixie shrugged. "Still bigger'n me. Come on, help me get this thing open."

Ren sighed and placed a shoulder on the door. "Fine. Ready? Three, two, one, _push!_" They both heaved forwards together. With a horrible crunching, grinding sound, the door gave way and swung reluctantly inwards.

"Shot," Trixie said, poking her head inside. "Jeez, it's dark in here. You got a light?"

Ren rummaged in his bag, pulling out the small torch he kept for emergencies. He flicked it on and handed it to Trixie.

"Good stuff," she said, examining it appreciatively. "I like guys who are prepared for anything."

"And I like girls who give my stuff back when they're done with it," Ren said pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah," she said. "You coming in or not?" Torch held in front of her, Trixie forged ahead into the farmhouse.

Ren rolled his eyes and followed her in. He regretted it almost immediately. The interior of the farmhouse was dusky and full of dust which rose in clouds at the slightest movement, making his eyes water and his throat tickle. The only sources of light were the half-open door and the torch that Trixie was holding; Ren could barely make out a couple of windows that were boarded and taped over.

"They really cleaned this place out," Trixie noted in a whisper. "There's nothing left but the furniture."

It was true, Ren saw as she swept the torch beam around the room. They appeared to be in what had once been a kitchen, with an old wood-burning stove built into one wall next to a rickety countertop. Everything was covered in a thick layer of grey dust, from the heavy old table to the sturdy, rustic chairs that were still arrayed around it. Ren felt his footsteps being muffled by the sheer age of the place.

"This isn't one of the more popular haunted sites in the region," Trixie said, her voice still low and cautious as she tiptoed over to examine the stove more closely. "You'd be better off heading out to Route 122 and checking out the floaters at Mt. Pyre. How come you're interested in this place anyway?"

"Oh, uh . . . no reason in particular," Ren said evasively. "I saw that it was near Mauville, so I thought I'd check it out while I was up here. I've been curious about ghosts and things for a while."

"You'd be surprised how many people don't even believe ghosts are real," Trixie said. "If I'd had to guess, I would have pinned you as one of those sensible people who doesn't believe in anything other than what he can see in front of him. No offense, natch."

"None taken," Ren said. "But I usually am one of those people. I didn't start putting much stock in myths and ghost stories like this until recently. Something that happened to me made me revise my worldview." He shut his mouth quickly. He didn't want to go and accidentally tell Trixie exactly what that something had been.

"Ooh, I see. So you've seen a ghost before?"

"Uh . . . something like that," Ren said, casting about for a change of subject. "Say, uh . . . where do you reckon that door goes?"

"I'd say back to the bedrooms," Trixie said, trotting over and giving the door a push. Unlike the external portal, it swung open easily, kicking up another massive dust cloud. "Son of a-" Trixie wheezed, waving a hand vigorously in front of her face.

"You okay?" Ren asked.

"Blech," Trixie said. "The only problem with ghost-hunting is that they love hanging out in places with loads of dust. That's why I like Mt. Pyre so much. Come on, let's check this out." She forged on through the door, leaving Ren to follow her uncertainly.

_If there is a ghost here, _Ren thought suddenly, _how am I going to talk to it with her around? I can hardly start talking about the world of dreams with Trixie here. Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it - if it even exists._

The door opened onto a short hallway with two doors on each side and another at the far end. The walls were uneven and in poor repair, and the floor was covered with a tattered, threadbare rug that spat out small clouds of dust when stepped on. A light bulb hung from the ceiling by a wire, but Ren didn't fancy the chances of it working.

The first door on the left led to a bathroom, to which Trixie only lent a cursory glance before closing the door and moving on. Opposite was a bedroom - sans bed, Ren noticed. The windows here hadn't been boarded up, so there was no need for the torch. In the afternoon sunlight, Ren could see two nightstands, a cupboard and some ragged curtains - but no bed. There was even a large, empty space by one wall where a bed would have fit perfectly, and four small dents in the carpet - as if the bed had been removed recently. Ren shuddered as he pointed this out to Trixie.

"Curious," she said, seeming unruffled by the development. "We might find the ghost in here if we come back later."

"Fantastic," Ren said bleakly. "Should we check the other rooms anyway?"

"Natch," Trixie said, backing out of the bedroom and heading down the hall. The other door on the left refused to open, no matter how hard they tried, and the one opposite led to a smaller bedroom - this one actually featuring a bed, though there was no mattress on it.

The door at the end of the hallway led outside again, they found when they opened it. Ren winced at the sudden influx of sunlight. Squinting under the afternoon sun, he spotted a large shed some distance away, on a small hill that rose above the farmhouse. "Should we have a look in there?" he suggested, pointing.

"Nah, the ghost is meant to live in the house. We'll check the shed out later if it doesn't show, though."

"So now what?" Ren asked as Trixie shut the door behind him and handed back his torch, which he stashed safely away in his bag. "It won't be dark for a few hours yet."

"Dunno," Trixie said as she led the way back around towards the front of the farmhouse. "I brought food. You hungry?"

"Now you mention it, I kind of forgot to eat lunch," Ren admitted, feeling his stomach gurgle at the mention of food.

"Then that sounds like a plan!" Trixie said brightly as she headed back down the gravel path. "I brought heaps, so I don't mind sharing. It's all back in the car, of course. Come with."

Ren followed her down the path, beginning to wonder if he would ever get used to this girl. She seemed more like Natasha with everything she did, but unlike with Natasha, Ren had no choice but to let himself get swept along by her whims.

When the SUV came into view, Ren froze in his tracks like a Stantler caught in the headlights. All thoughts of food, of ghosts and dreams vanished from his mind in an instant, replaced by a single, pure feeling of utter shock.

Leaning casually on the car's wing mirror as if he owned it, smirking like the king of the world, was the one person Ren had genuinely hoped to never see again as long as he lived. The interloper was a little older than he was, with a shock of dark red hair and sharp green eyes that bored into Ren's skull. He was dressed comfortably for travelling, in cargo pants and a black hoodie.

"Boo," he said softly, his malicious grin widening.

"Damien," Ren said levelly, forcing himself to keep his voice even. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Don't be like that, old _friend_," Damien said, putting a mocking emphasis on the last word. He stepped slowly away from the SUV and wandered towards the gate, never taking his eyes off Ren's. "I haven't seen you since before the League. Congratulations, by the way. You know how I love to see you succeed."

Ren's hands clenched involuntarily into fists. The words were pleasant and the tone was carefully measured, but he knew that Damien was lying through his teeth. He swallowed hard. "What do you want?"

Damien spread his hands as if in mild affront. "Do I need an excuse to drop in and see my old friend Ren? I thought I saw you sitting in this car as it roared past me while I was training out here, so I followed along. Sure enough, here you are."

Ren narrowed his eyes. He didn't buy it, but it was just as unlikely that Damien had followed him out here deliberately. "Yes, here I am," Ren said. "You've seen me now, so you can leave."

Damien seemed hurt. "Aren't you even going to introduce me to your friend, Ren?" When Ren chose not to answer him, Damien turned to face Trixie and extended a hand. "Seeing as Ren's being so rude, would you be so kind as to tell me your name?"

Trixie glanced him up and down, but stayed where she was, well out of reach of Damien's faux-friendly gesture. "It's Trixie," she said coldly, evidently reading the mood. "I have no problem with you, but it's obvious that Ren does. Could I ask you to leave, please?"

"Oh, don't listen to him. We go way back, Ren and I. He's just a little bit sore because I beat him the last time we battled."

Trixie's eyes widened fractionally. "Is that true, Ren?"

"Yes and no," Ren admitted. "It's true he beat me, but that's not why I want him out of here."

"Mind telling me why?"

"Some other time," Ren said, glaring at Damien. "Right now, I want you to leave."

"On what grounds?" Damien asked, an innocent look on his face as he climbed over the gate and made his way up the hill towards Ren and Trixie. "We're all trespassing here, and besides, I've been looking forward to catching up with you. It's been what, two months? We have so much to talk about!"

Ren clenched his teeth and forced his hands to relax. "How many times can I say this, Damien? I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to see you. I don't even want to remember that you exist, but you insist on reminding me."

"And how many times can _I_ say _this_, Ren? I don't give a _damn_ what you want," Damien hissed, his amiable veneer slipping momentarily. He seemed to remember himself immediately, though. "That is to say, I'm not going to leave until I get what I came here for."

"And what _did_ you come here for, Damien?" Ren asked, though he felt he already knew the answer.

"I want to battle the Champion of the Hoenn League, of course!" Damien said. "Last time we fought, you were just another Trainer that I'd run into a few times. You bothered me because you'd managed to beat me. Not just once, but three times. Three times you handed me humiliating defeats, and man . . . that stung."

"You've more than had your revenge for those three battles, Damien," Ren ground out as Damien came to a halt barely two feet from him. "And you know it."

"Aye," Damien said, his vindictive smirk returning as his facade began to slip away entirely. "Why don't you refresh my memory, Ren? I'm sure your girlfriend there would love to hear it too. How many times have I beaten you?"

Ren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Six," he said at length. The single syllable was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say out loud. "You've beaten me six times, Damien. But you know what? It doesn't matter. I don't care! That's life, you know. You win some, you lose some, and you and I both know that."

"Of course," Damien said. "But if you really don't care, why are you shaking right now?"

It was true, Ren realised. His hands were shaking visibly. Swearing silently, he crammed the traitorous appendages into his pockets and glared at Damien. "I won't battle you," he said. "I came here today to do something, and I'm not going to let you get in my way.

"Oh? Then that's perfect!" Damien said, clapping his hands with a smile that reminded Ren of a hungry Sharpedo. "I'll stay and help you out."

"You will _leave_," Ren said insistently.

"I think you'll find I won't," Damien said with false cheerfulness, green eyes sparkling with glee at Ren's discomfort.

Ren sighed. "This is one of the many reasons you piss me off, Damien. What can I say to make you leave?"

"Hey, if you want some private time with your girlfriend-"

"Shut up, Damien!" Ren said sharply. He exhaled deeply, forcing himself to remain in control. When he opened his mouth, he spoke slowly and carefully. "Just tell me what you want so that you'll go the hell _away_."

"I already told you, didn't I?" Damien said, leaning in close to look Ren in the eyes. "Battle me, and I'll leave."

Ren didn't answer. He really didn't want to get involved in a battle with Damien again. While it was true what he had said - his 3-6 record against the redhead didn't bother him at all - he hated battling him. After the second time they had clashed, Ren had gone to all lengths possible to avoid there being a third time. Unfortunately, Damien's single-minded persistence and refusal to take no for an answer had forced Ren into battling him a further seven times, most of which had ended badly. He didn't fear losing to Damien. He feared battling him.

"Are you worried about your reputation, Champ?" Damien taunted him, circling slowly around behind Ren and whispering directly into his ear. "Don't worry. I won't tell a soul when you lose," he breathed.

"I-if it helps," Trixie said hesitantly, "I'll promise not to tell anyone about this either."

"Thanks, Trixie," Ren said dryly. _There goes my excuse_.

"See?" Damien said, moving around to stand in front of Ren again. "She won't tell anybody that the Champion lost to some upstart kid. Your reputation will be safe. I'll knock you off your perch eventually, Champ, but it won't be tonight. I'll go about it properly. I'll win the League, destroy the Elite Four, and then end you right where everybody can see you: on national television, in front of a live audience of thousands, with millions more watching at home. You'll be broken and humiliated, and I'll stand where I've always intended to. At the top!"

Ren grinned. "You'll have to beat Winona first," he said. "Have you got that Feather Badge yet?"

Damien's face twisted into a snarl of rage. "You little punk!" he spat.

"I'll take that as a no, then?" Ren said. "You can hardly get all high and mighty about being Champion one day if you can't even beat a Gym Leader."

"Screw you and her both!" Damien growled, drawing back his fist and punching Ren hard in the face.

Ren reeled backwards, his cheek a starburst of pain. He saw silver stars dancing across his vision, and before he knew it, he was lying flat on his back in the gravel. "Ow," he said dumbly.

"Hey!" Trixie said, stepping between Ren and Damien. "Where do you get off doing that?"

"It's nothing to do with you, girl," Damien grunted. "Step out of the way."

"I'm not going to-" Trixie began, but Ren cut her off.

"It's fine," he said groggily, sitting up and rubbing his stinging cheek. "Don't get involved. I'll handle this myself." _Reasons to hate Damien, number two: random violence._

Trixie narrowed her eyes, but stepped back and let Damien pass. The redhead stepped forward and, seizing Ren by the collar, dragged him to his feet. "You're going to battle me _now_," he snarled, "and you are going to _lose_."

Ren forced Damien's hands off him and stumbled backwards. Straightening out his rumpled T-shirt, he sighed in resignation. "Fine, I'll battle you. But there's no way in hell I'm going to lose to someone like you."

"Talk all you want," Damien said, turning to climb over the wire fence into the relatively flat field beyond. "You're going down in the exact same way you went down the last three times - fast and hard."

Ren didn't reply, but he followed Damien over the fence and into the scratchy, knee-high grass. The weight of the six Poké Balls at his belt was comforting, but at the same time Ren felt a very real fear. He could see no possible alternative to battling at this stage; as always, Damien had backed him into a corner simply through the force of his will. Ren needed to finish this quickly and get Damien out of there before sunset. Here was the _last_ person on the planet that Ren wanted catching wind of what he was up to.

"No substitutions!" Damien shouted, the wind catching his messy hair and throwing it around his face as Trixie took up a guarded stance at Ren's side. "You send each Pokemon out and fight it until it can't fight any more. If you return it to its Poké Ball, it counts as a loss and you can't use it again. Any problems with that?"

Ren frowned. It was an uncommon ruleset, but perfectly valid in competition. "No, that'll work."

"He's obviously up to something," Trixie murmured urgently. "Don't be stupid!"

"It's fine," Ren said. "I've played his stupid games before." _It doesn't mean I want to play them again, though,_ he added silently.

"This will be my first Pokemon!" Damien proclaimed, snatching a ball from his belt and thrusting it in Ren's direction. He made no move to release it, however, simply making sure to keep it where Ren could see it. _No advantages, huh?_

Ren tried to work out which of Damien's inventively-named Pokemon he would have to battle first, but Damien's eyes betrayed nothing. Scowling, Ren snatched Zangoose's ball from his belt. Unless Damien had changed his team since their last battle, there were no Fighting-types for Ren to worry about. "I'm ready to go," he declared, biting his lip as he fought the urge to break and run. The look in Damien's eyes was that of a lethal predator - one that had just cornered its prey.

"Then come get some, punk."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: HEY LOOK GUYS. A new supporting character AND the debut of an old rival in the same chapter? What is this madness?


	35. Invidia et Ira

****Well, it's been a while. School is busy this year - lots of homework. Plus I'm going to the gym three times a week, playing badminton once a week, and rehearsing for the school production between one and three times a week. So I'm pretty busy, but I love it anyway. The downside is that I have little time to write, but I've managed to cobble together a chapter for you guys. I'm also planning to bring _Something's Got To Give_ back in the very near future, so keep an eye out for a new chapter of that as well.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Thirty-Five<strong>

_Invidia et Ira_

Ren released Zangoose first. The Normal-type hissed wrathfully at the sight of Damien. "I know, buddy," Ren murmured, placing a cautioning hand on its head. "I know. Sometimes I'd like to rip his face off, too, but we can't do that."

"Just like I thought," Damien said with a superior grin. "You really are predictable, Champ."

"Stop talking and battle," Ren growled. "You forced me into this, so hurry up and get it over with."

Damien shrugged nonchalantly. "Fine, fine. If that's how you're gonna be. But I warn you, the battle begins as soon as the Poké Ball opens. Get ready for this, because it ain't gonna be pretty."

"Just do it," Ren ground out.

"Hmph," Damien said. "Fine. Let's go, Invidia!" He hurled his Poké Ball with slightly more force and drama than was necessary, sending a flash of red light across the field.

Ren swore loudly and moved to hold Zangoose back, but it was too late. With a sickening yowl, it shot forward like a bolt of lightning, slamming into its most hated foe and pinning it to the ground. Invidia, Damien's oversized Seviper, recovered quickly, slamming its tail into the side of Zangoose's head and sending it rolling through the grass.

"Zangoose, stay back!" Ren cried, but he knew there was no point. Zangoose, with its violent temperament that Ren had been able to do little about in five years, was extraordinarily vulnerable to the whims of its genetic programming. Most of the time it only caused minor problems, like being distracted by a stray Skitty during training. Whenever a Seviper was involved, however, it was a different story.

Zangoose straightened up instantly, blood matting the fur on its head, and launched itself at Invidia again. Invidia slithered swiftly out of the way and Zangoose crashed to the ground, its reckless charge causing damage to itself instead of its opponent. It was quick to recover, though, leaping onto Invidia's back and fastening its bulky arms around its neck. Pinning the oversized serpent to the ground with its weight, Zangoose squeezed brutally.

"Zangoose, stop!" Ren said sharply. Though he disliked the serpentine Pokemon almost as much as he did its Trainer, he didn't want Zangoose to kill it. His plea fell on deaf ears, however, as Zangoose could see only its opponent. It was Invidia that saved itself in the end, however, managing to bring its lethally bladed tail down on Zangoose's head a second time. The shock caused by the impact caused Zangoose to loosen its grip just enough for Invidia to slither out.

This time, Zangoose hung back a little, the pain evidently awakening it to the need for caution. It continued to hiss madly at Invidia as it paced back and forward, eyeing its foe with blood-red eyes as the enormous serpent swayed its head from side to side, following Zangoose's movements carefully.

"You need to train your beast better," Damien said loudly. Unlike Ren, he was apparently more than happy for the battle to proceed without his input. "I would have thought a Champion like you would have more control over his Pokemon."

"Shut up, Damien," Ren ground out. "Zangoose, just relax, okay? I know you hate Seviper, but we need to be extra careful with this one. I promise you can beat it up as much as you like, but you need to listen to me. All right?" Zangoose didn't respond, but Ren sensed that it was struggling to hold itself back, waiting for orders. He quickly sized up the situation. It didn't look good. Seviper, as a general rule, were twice Zangoose's size or thereabouts. Damien's Invidia was at least half that again, towering over Zangoose and Ren both.

"Don't waste time, Invidia," Damien snapped irritably. "Kill it." Invidia lunged forward, mouth gaping wide to reveal lethal-looking fangs tinged a venomous purple.

"Zangoose, evade!" Ren said, but his Pokemon stood its ground as Invidia rushed towards it. Rather than moving out of the way, Zangoose reached out and seized both of Invidia's fangs, using them as a handle to swing the oversized serpent right over its head. Invidia left the ground entirely, thrashing madly until Zangoose brought it slamming down on its back with a thud that made Ren wince. Zangoose pressed its advantage, hammering its downed opponent with frenzied blows to the head and body and causing it to writhe and contort in pain.

"Invidia, Haze!" Damien barked. He looked livid. Struggling to lift its head, Invidia spewed forth a cloud of thick black fog, causing Zangoose to stumble backwards with an irritated yowl. The thick, smoky substance spread quickly, obscuring Ren's view of the battlefield. When it faded enough to allow visibility once more, Invidia was nowhere to be seen.

"Dammit," Ren muttered, scanning the field. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Zangoose doing the same. The only good news was that wherever Invidia was, it would be unable to move terribly fast without him noticing it. The grass was a couple of feet high, but it wasn't nearly high enough for a Pokemon as large as a Seviper - let alone one Invidia's size - to manoeuvre successfully. "Be careful, Zangoose," he warned.

Before Ren could entirely realise how redundant his warning had been, Damien struck. "Now, Invidia!" he roared, and his giant Seviper surged forward from its hiding place, just feet behind Zangoose. It seemed to stretch forward with its massive fangs, glistening with drops of venom that promised certain doom.

Reacting barely in time, Zangoose managed to slip away to one side. Even as it did so, however, Invidia changed its course mid-lunge, hitting the ground in what was now Zangoose's blind spot and swinging its bladed tail around with blinding speed to strike Zangoose squarely in the belly. Zangoose screeched in outrage and grasped the offending appendage, sinking its claws in gamely as Invidia tried to thrash it off.

"You've got it now, Invidia!" Damien said with a feral grin that took Ren by surprise. "Wrap!" Before either Ren or Zangoose could react, Invidia coiled its way tightly around Zangoose's body, using the full length of its own body to restrict its movements.

Zangoose hissed and thrashed like a mad thing, but its arms and legs were pinned securely. It tried to bite Invidia's scaly hide, but due to the angle of its head, its fangs could barely scratch at it. Zangoose hissed in rage and frustration as it continued to writhe, but to no avail. Ren could no longer see any more of Zangoose than its head.

"Now what, Champ?" Damien taunted, striding forward and putting a hand on Invidia's head as he glared triumphantly at Ren. "What are you going to do now your Pokemon can't move?"

"Zangoose!" Ren shouted, but his Pokemon was too busy wriggling madly to listen to him. "Zangoose, you can break out of there. Just stop and think about where you are, and apply your strength to Invidia's weak points!"

Zangoose hissed uncertainly, but it stopped trying to worm its way out of Invidia's clutches. Jaw set firmly, the muscles in its neck strained visibly as it struggled to push outwards rather than slip out. Invidia's forked tongue flickered in and out in alarm as its hold started to give. A flash of white fur was visible between two coils as Zangoose brought to bear all the force it could muster.

Damien, however, seemed unflustered. "Heh. Sorry, Champ, but it's just too bad. Invidia was just holding Zangoose – I didn't even give the order to crush it yet. But now . . . I think it's time. Go on, Invidia. Kill the little bastard. I know it's been pissing you off too." Instantly, Zangoose's resistance was extinguished as Invidia tightened its grip with a vindictive joy that was readily apparent in the gleeful gape of its mouth.

Zangoose yowled, this time in real pain, as Invidia squeezed ever tighter. It renewed its writhing with abandon, desperately trying to shed the massive beast that held it in a death grip. And that was what it was, Ren realised with a cold shudder. Damien was trying to kill Zangoose, and he would succeed if he didn't do something about it. "Damien, stop!" he tried. "You've made your point!"

"I won't!" Damien grinned, a fire burning in his eyes that could only be described as joyful, if that was an adjective that it was ever appropriate to apply to Damien. "You've been too smug for too long, Ren Goodwin! I want you to watch your partner die."

A second cold shock rippled its way down Ren's spine at Damien's words. This was far more serious than he had ever imagined, even for Damien. "You've gone too far this time, Damien," he growled as he snatched Zangoose's Poké Ball from his belt.

"Uh-uh!" Damien warned him, wagging a finger as one might at a naughty child. "You recall it, the round's over, remember? You can't use it again."

Ren's hand froze, the Poké Ball gripped tightly in his fingers. _The round's over . . ._ He saw Zangoose struggling for breath as Seviper slowly but surely crushed the air out of its lungs. _Surely . . . surely there's some way I can do this without surrendering here. If I give up to Damien, won't that make him right?_

"Ren!" Trixie hissed from next to him, causing Ren to start. He had almost forgotten about her. "You have to call Zangoose back! It's not worth it!"

Ren gritted his teeth, feeling his hands shake. _Stop. Examine the whole situation. Find a solution! Isn't that what you do best? _No matter how many times he looked at it, though, the battle looked hopeless. _No, there's always a way! _"Always," he ground out aloud. There had to be _some_ way to get Zangoose out of there, didn't there?

Zangoose had fallen silent, Ren noticed with a horrible start. It had run out of spare breath to cry out with, and he could tell that now it was just desperately trying to stay conscious, sucking in what breath it could as Ren tried to find a way out. No matter how hard he looked, though, he could only see the solid brick wall that Damien had pushed him against. "Zangoose, return," he said hollowly, holding out the Poké Ball. Zangoose dematerialised instantly, a beam of red light sucking it back into the Poké Ball and leaving Invidia to hiss in anger as it overbalanced, its prey having escaped.

Nobody spoke for at least twenty seconds. Ren breathed heavily, clutching Zangoose's Poké Ball tightly in both hands. _I failed_, he thought, cursing himself. _It wasn't Zangoose's fault. It was all me._

_And him._ Ren glared at Damien, who was waiting patiently several metres away. He tried to speak, to challenge the redhead who watched him with such condescension, but his voice didn't want to work.

"I knew it," Damien said eventually, and there was disgust written all through his voice, mixed with something that almost could have been disappointment. "I knew you'd break first. You're so weak."

"What's wrong with not wanting your Pokémon to die?" Ren challenged him. "What would it have achieved if I'd left Zangoose in? It would have died, and I wouldn't be any closer to winning the battle. You know as well as I do that there was no way out of that."

"It's not about what you would have achieved, Ren! It's about how far you're willing to go for what you want! That's why I beat you. That's why I'm beating you, why I've always beaten you – because I'm willing to go that little bit further to win. Don't you understand that?"

"No," Ren said frankly. "No, Damien, I don't. And I'm not going to battle you again. Ever. This battle is over, too." He clipped Zangoose's Poké Ball back to his belt and turned to climb back over the fence.

He heard Damien snap his fingers, and suddenly Invidia was in front of him, rearing up to its full height. It opened its mouth to expose its fangs, which were still secreting sickeningly purple liquid. Ren turned his head back to look at Damien. "And what is this?"

"It's not over, Ren," Damien said. "If you walk away now, it won't be Zangoose that gets the life squeezed out of it. And you don't have a Poké Ball to retreat to, remember. Don't think I won't do it."

The terrifying thing was that Ren knew he would. "I don't want to continue this, Damien," he said. "It's over, you beat me, I lost. I've even accepted that you're the better Trainer, so just let me leave already. I'm over it."

"No," Damien said flatly. "You don't leave here until this battle is over."

Ren turned around properly and strode over to where Damien was standing, looking him right in the eye. "You let me leave right now, Damien, or I swear, I'm going to get angry."

Damien laughed in Ren's face. "Let me guess, I won't like you when you're angry?"

"No," Ren growled. "I guarantee that you won't."

"Fine by me," Damien shrugged. "If you try to climb that fence or leave by any other means without battling me, Invidia will bite you. Knowing that, do what you like. Seviper poison is lethal to humans 99.9% of the time, by the way. Your immune system isn't as strong as Zangoose's. So, what'll it be?"

Ren turned on his heel again and marched back over to where Invidia was still waiting by the fence. He looked it in the eye and pointed back towards Damien. "Get back on the battlefield, you," he ordered it. "Now I'm mad."

Damien laughed. "Do as he says, Invidia. I have a feeling this is going to get interesting."

As Invidia returned to take up its position in front of Damien once again, Ren snatched a second Poké Ball from his belt and cracked it open, releasing the largest of his six Pokémon. "Camerupt," he said, his voice level and barely controlled, "I need your help."

Camerupt snorted and pawed the ground. "Yes, of course," Ren said, "but it's a little different today. This time, I don't want you to hold back. Give it everything you've got, all right?"

"My, my," Damien mused. "I seem to have roused the sleeping dragon. This is more like it, Ren. Maybe I was wrong – you might not be completely worthless after all."

Ren closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _Yes, I'm angry, but losing my cool could ruin everything. Just focus. Focus, and destroy him._ "Camerupt," he said tightly, "this Pokémon and its Trainer just tried to kill Zangoose. You don't want to let them get away with that, do you?" Camerupt snorted darkly, rocking from side to side as it shifted its weight in preparation.

"Then shut up and let's end this!" Damien said. "Invidia, Poison Tail!"

"Camerupt, Earth Power! Go all-out!" Camerupt rumbled dangerously as Invidia charged. It lifted up one massive, hairy front foot and brought it crashing back down to earth with a disproportionately loud sound. It repeated the motion with its other front foot, sending vibrations rippling through the earth. The tips of every blade of grass in the vicinity trembled as if in fear, the shaking growing more and more powerful until Ren had to step back and clutch the fence to stay upright. Invidia had stopped moving in confusion. With a final roar, Camerupt reared back on its hind legs.

Invidia panicked visibly, trying to slither backwards, but the shaking of the earth was far too powerful for it to move properly. It could only watch as Camerupt slammed back into the ground, sending a shockwave through the earth that tore it to shreds. At the moment of impact, the field crumbled like a child's jigsaw puzzle. The earth's crust itself gave way, split into a multitude of heaving, bucking chunks of dirt by a spiderweb of deep cracks that glowed a hellish orange. Invidia was left helplessly writhing on one of them, unable to grip onto anything well enough to save itself.

Camerupt glanced back at its Trainer and snorted inquiringly, a measure of the anger that Ren himself felt mirrored in its eyes. Ren nodded. "Blow it."

Camerupt shifted its footing, lowering its centre of gravity and focusing entirely on the earth below it. Ren watched with a certain vindictive satisfaction as the orange light issuing from the multiple cracks in the earth grew brighter and the shifting grew more and more violent. Even Damien was worriedly backing away from the battlefield, he noticed. _Any second now . . ._

A split second of silence cut through the air far more brutally than any explosion would have; it rang in Ren's ears as if for an eternity. _But nothing lasts forever._ The earth erupted upwards, a massive, melting conglomeration of earth and lava that blasted over thirty metres into the air. It was a harrowingly magnificent spectacle, a force of nature harnessed in its rawest and most brutal form. The earth roared and groaned as the sun hid its face behind a cloud, and for a brief moment, the mortals that beheld the event were as tiny and insignificant as insects before the indomitable power of the earth itself.

"Get back!" Ren shouted urgently, eyes widening as he realised how sorely he had misjudged the distances. He grabbed Trixie's arm and raced along the fence, away from the explosion that still forged its way upwards; out of the corner of his eye, he saw Damien doing the same, headed in the opposite direction. Then the rain began. Globs of rapidly cooling lava and clods of dirt landed all over, spread a huge distance by the localised eruption. Ren managed to evade the blast radius, but there was no way of telling whether Damien had done the same.

At length, the rain of deadly projectiles stopped. The field was a mess of burnt or burning grass; chunks of rock and massive sods of earth lay at odd angles. Small fires flickered all around, giving off a sickening haze of smoke and heat. Right in the middle of it all, Camerupt stood proudly, unfazed by the destruction it had wrought. A few metres before it lay Invidia, its serpentine body blackened and razed by fire and earth.

Ren exchanged a worried glance with Trixie. Had he overdone it? Even as he picked his way back towards the two Pokemon, however, he saw a twitch of feeble movement in Invidia's spiked tail. _Good_. Ren didn't want to be responsible for the death of one of Damien's Pokemon any more than one of his own.

"Well done, Ren!" Damien said almost genially, emerging from behind a low rise where he appeared to have taken shelter from the eruption. "You really surprised me there, going all-out right from the start. Perhaps you might be worth it after all."

Ren frowned, but let the unusual comment pass. "Your Pokemon needs medical treatment," he said, indicating the injured Invidia that lay between them. "You should take it to a Pokémon Centre now. The battle's over." Ren turned to leave.

"No!" Damien spat.

Ren turned back to glance at him. "What did you say?"

"I said no! The battle's not over. I told you I'd kill your Pokémon, didn't I? Well, you beat Invidia. Finish what you started."

Ren blinked uncomprehendingly. "You want me to _kill_ it?"

Damien's eyes narrowed, as if he was quietly judging him. "The round doesn't end until one Trainer gives in and returns their Pokémon. I have no intention of doing so."

"You're beaten, Damien!" Ren growled. "Invidia can't even move. There's no doubt about who won this battle."

"You agreed to my rules, Ren!" Damien reminded him sharply. "Are you telling me you can't even hold up your end?"

"Why, Damien?" Ren said quietly. "What could you possibly gain from this? I'm not going to kill Invidia. That's not what this is about, and I pity you if you ever thought it was."

"Oh, but it is, Ren. It's always what it's been about. I've always believed that a Pokémon battle means nothing if the stakes aren't high enough, and for a battle like this . . . the price for losing should be the ultimate one."

Ren felt his hands clench into fists as Damien spoke. "You're sick, Damien," he said. "You're a twisted, horrible person."

"Your words don't mean anything, Ren. Why don't you let your actions speak for you instead? Do it. Finish Invidia off. It's useless to me now anyway."

"Damien . . ." Ren felt his fingernails cutting into his palms as he fought to keep his fists from shaking.

"Come on, then. You're angry at me, aren't you? All you have to do is prove it. Punish me. Take Invidia out, and then we can finish this battle."

Ren turned and glared up at the sky, fighting the surprisingly powerful urge to do exactly as Damien said. It would be wonderful, a small part of him said, to stick it to Damien like that. No matter how much the redhead pretended not to care, there had to be some part of him that would suffer if Invidia died. For a brief, agonising moment, Ren imagined how it would feel to see that. It was an exquisite temptation, the like of which he had never quite felt before, and it was an entirely attractive prospect. Damien had tried to kill Zangoose, so why shouldn't he repay him in kind?

Taking a deep breath, Ren reached down to his belt and plucked Camerupt's Poké Ball from his belt. "Return," he said heavily, watching Damien's scowl deepen as Camerupt huffed quietly, allowing itself to be sucked back into the confines of its capsule. "The battle's over when I return my Pokémon, right?" he said.

Damien nodded frostily. With a sigh, he returned Invidia to its own Poké Ball. "You done?" he asked.

Ren nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. "I forfeit. You'll let me do that now?"

Damien shrugged almost indifferently. "Yeah, there's no real point carrying on now."

"Why all of a sudden?" Ren asked, frowning.

"I didn't come here today to see if I could beat you, Ren Goodwin," Damien said frankly. "I already knew I could do that. I've proven – to myself, and to you – enough times by now that I think even you have no choice but to accept that I'm better than you. No, that's not why I came here. I came here to see if you were _worthy_, Champion. I came to see if you were _salvageable_. I wanted to find out if, beneath the weakness and the bluster, there was any grit, any hope that you might one day actually be a threat to me!"

Ren blinked. "Damien-"

"No!" Damien spat, cutting Ren off with a sharp hand gesture. "Don't give me that. It only proves further that I was wrong to think you might be worth it. I watched you win that match against Steven, Ren. I was there, in the crowd. I loathed you for where you stood, but at the same time . . . I almost _admired_ you." He sounded disgusted with himself.

Ren tried again. "Look, Damien. You don't have to-"

"No," Damien repeated, more softly this time. "I watched you win, Ren. I saw the fire in your eyes then, a fire that I've never seen before or since. Where did that go, Ren? That right there, in that single moment, made me doubt my convictions. I'd made up my mind when I beat you before the League: you were a weakling, below me in every way. You weren't worth my time. I went to the final battle to watch you _suffer_, but instead . . ."

"I won," Ren finished, struggling to make his voice work. "I won, and suddenly you weren't so sure any more. Right?"

"Don't talk like you know what goes on in my head, Ren Goodwin!" Damien roared. "You have no idea. You have _no_ idea how much that haunted me, that one moment. Since then, I've been looking for you. I went back to Slateport, where you came from, but I couldn't find you. I followed you to Rustboro when I saw you on _Hoenn Buzz_, but you'd left before I got there. The last week has been the stupidest, hardest week of my life, and all because you couldn't leave well enough alone and stay where you belonged!"

Ren swallowed heavily. "I . . . I had no idea you were that bothered by it," he said with some difficulty. "Look, if it makes it any better, I'll . . . I'll admit that you're better than me. You've beaten me so many times now, I can't help but accept that. It doesn't mean I'll give up on beating you, but there you have it. Right now, at this moment in time, you are the better Trainer. Does that help?"

Damien's face twisted unthinkably, his features contorting almost to the point of unrecognisability. "Help? How would that _help_, you condescending little twerp!" He lunged forwards, and Ren, expecting to be punched in the face again, flinched and closed his eyes involuntarily.

He heard an impact, but he felt nothing. Confused, he opened his eyes to see Damien stumbling backwards, shock written all over his face. _Did I hit him without realising it?_ Ren wondered._ No._

"Now look here," Trixie said, coolly rubbing her knuckles as she stood over Damien. "I really wasn't planning to get involved in this little spat, but you're really starting to hack me off, Damien. So at the end of the day, if you want to screw with Ren, you'll have to screw with me first."

"Trixie," Ren said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to do this. You hardly even know me, so don't feel like you have to step in. I don't mean to be rude, but this is between the two of us."

"Well, sure, but I'm not going to just stand here and let you two idiots slug it out, am I?" Trixie shrugged Ren's hand off before turning to glare at Damien. "Now look. There's obviously a whole lot of history that I'm missing here, but at the end of the day, _you're_ the one being an ass to my friend. I want you out of here before I call the police, because I'll be damned if I let you cause any more damage."

Damien was breathing heavily, his left cheek reddened from Trixie's blow. His eyes were filled with an almost murderous rage that made Ren more than a little worried, but at length, he spat into the grass between them before stalking off towards the road without another word.

Ren watched him go with a bitter taste in his mouth.


End file.
